


Last Call Liars

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Liar, Liar [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, I hate tagging, Infertility, Non linear storytelling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Miscarriage, Slow Burn, additional tags on each chapter, marked explicit for the abuse themes, multiple POVs, reader is a Dixon, seriously there's a lot of domestic violence content in here it's a major theme please be safe, street artist/bartender reader, tagging is hard and I suck at it, there are three Dixon siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-10-05 22:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 86
Words: 273,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: Shane Walsh has a hero complex, but you don't need to be saved. You stayed friends with him anyway- until the night you didn't.When the end of the world came along, you hadn't seen Shane in six months, your abusive ex-boyfriend had put you in the hospital, and your semi-estranged asshole brothers came to bust you out. When you run into Shane where you least expected to find him, you start to think maybe the ups and downs in your friendship might be because you like him a little more than just as friends. That doesn't matter though, because the two of you decided a long time ago you wouldn't make a good couple.Of course, you always said last call makes liars out of everyone, and this sure looks like last call for humanity....





	1. Lie #1: "I'll Be Fine" - Shane

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> I'm excited for this one! I've been struggling with how to present the story in my head, because I hate trying to tell a story from A to Z. I'd rather wiggle around and give you the interesting bits as you need them. But I also realized I couldn't tell this one entirely from one person's POV. 
> 
> So I'm experimenting with non-linear storytelling again (flashbacks are my jam!) AND switching focus from Shane and the reader's POV. I hope it's not too confusing to figure out what's going on when, and I hope you enjoy these two!
> 
> \- JustRamblinOn
> 
> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic violence  
drinking/alcohol use

"Uncle Shane! Uncle Shane!" 

Shane looked up, lowering the ax he'd been about to swing immediately when he saw how close Carl was. He glared. "Lower your voice, kid. Just because we ain't seen any of those geeks up this far doesn't mean they won't come. And slow down; this thing's sharp, little man," he added. 

Carl nodded, clearly not listening, and Shane was ready to crawl all up his butt about that, already looking around for Lori. 

"Dale says there's a truck coming that he hasn't seen before and sent me to get you," Carl blurted over him, and Shane's attention snapped back to the kid. 

"Shit," he muttered, slamming the ax blade down into the stump and starting up the hill for the camp. "How far down is it?" 

Carl scurried along at his side and Shane automatically shortened his stride so the kid could keep up. "I don't know. Dale just told me to run and find you." 

Shane tossed his arm around Carl's shoulders. "You did good. Go to your mom now," he said as they hit camp. 

Dale was on top of the RV with Andrea at his side, binoculars fixed on the road.

"How far?" Shane called up to him, already heading to his Jeep. 

"Down at the mouth. Still a couple miles out. It's a pickup truck and a motorcycle." 

Shane nodded and cranked the engine. "I'll go down. Keep an eye out and be ready for trouble." 

"Shouldn't you take someone with you?" Lori asked, her tone anxious. 

Shane shook his head, holding her gaze for a minute. "I'll be fine. Be back shortly. Carl, keep an eye on your mom for me." 

As he headed down the road, Shane tried to figure out just how in the hell he ended up here. He was also second guessing coming down alone, but it wasn't like they could afford to spare anyone, really. And while he liked most of the people up there well enough, there weren't any he'd trust at his back with a weapon if he needed someone there. 

Grief speared through him once again, because if Rick had been alive and been here, he'd have been at Shane's back where he belonged. Guilt followed right alongside the grief because if Rick was alive, Shane would be burning in the fires of hell for what was happening with Lori. 

No, that wasn't true. Because if Rick was alive, there wouldn't be anything going on with Lori. 

He didn't have time to do more wondering and worrying, because he was coming to a stop in front of the truck and the bike. There were two people in the cab of the truck, and one on the bike who set the kickstand and swung off to stand with his arms crossed and a look Shane could only describe as douchebag-y on his face. 

The driver's door of the truck opened but no one stepped out at first. The biker dude stalked up to the door as a blond with an attitude problem Shane could detect from from his Jeep got out and held a conversation as they both stared at him and he stared back. 

Then the passenger door opened, both assholes looked pissed, and- 

Holy fuck. 

The first time Shane saw Y/N "just call me Ace, damn it, everyone does" Dixon, her hair was electric blue and she was smoking a cigarette.

In his phone, the useless lump he was still carrying around in his pocket even now, the picture next to her name was a selfie she'd sent him one day with a red bandanna over the lower half of her face, spray paint splattered over it, over her forehead, over gunmetal grey hair; her eyes laughing at him as she flashed a peace sign with paint-stained fingers. She'd sent him the picture with a message that just read 'catch me if you can, Deputy Dickhead' and one of those dumbass winking emojis. 

The last time he saw her, she was slamming the door to her apartment in his face after bitching him out for overstepping her boundaries, while she had a bruise in the shape of a man's open hand fresh on her cheek, stitches in a cut on her forehead, and tears in her eyes.

"Hey, brother. Wanna grab a beer?" Rick stuck his head around the corner in the locker room, toweling off his damp hair, and Shane was already reaching for his phone. 

"Yeah, sure," he said casually, fingers flying over the keys before he shoved the thing back into his pocket. 

The phone buzzed angrily- once, twice, three times. Shane didn't bother to look. He pulled on one of the stack of clean black t-shirts he kept in his locker, checked his off-duty piece and slid it into the holster on his side, and slammed the locker closed. Rick grinned at him as he pulled a t shirt of his own over his head- white to Shane's black, opposites like Rick's skinny-ass frame and the build Shane spent several hours in the gym every week to maintain- and Shane scooped up Rick's towel and chucked it into the basket at the door as they fell into step together. 

One hard and fast rule Shane Walsh lived by- if Rick Grimes asked to get a beer, Shane went. 

It didn't matter that he'd had date number three planned with a fiery redhead tonight, the one currently yelling at him via the buzzing phone in his pocket. It didn't matter that before he'd left his house, Shane had put clean sheets on the bed and set one of those pumpkin-cinnamon-apple-pie-whatever scented candles every damn woman in the world seemed to go fucking nuts for this time of year on his freshly-dusted bedside table and lit the thing for five minutes while he got his boots and duty belt on. You know, so it would seem like it belonged there- just another step in the elaborate mating ritual of single people in their late twenties. 

It didn't matter that Shane had just spent eight hours in a car with the man, talking about life and shit in between routine calls and traffic stops. It didn't matter that he had dinner at Rick's house at least twice a week, with Rick and Lori and Carl gathered around Rick's massive oak table. It didn't matter that every Saturday Shane wasn't pulling an extra shift partnering with Leon fucking Basset, Shane's ass could be found, vaguely hungover from the night before, in uncomfortable metal bleachers watching a bunch of six-year-olds butcher the game of baseball. It didn't matter that he'd spend two hours baking in the sun and listening to the little assholes' parents go on about how talented all their kids were, or that Shane could have told them for an absolute fact that the only one out there even worth keeping one eye on was Carl, and much as Shane loved that kid, destined for the majors he was not. 

That was family time. That was Rick, Lori, and Carl Grimes, and while Carl called him 'Uncle Shane' and Shane felt like he earned that, Shane knew he was and always would be just a step removed from the unit that was the three of them. 

It was fine, it didn't bother him. It was exactly how it should be, after all. Rick was a husband and a father first these days, and Shane's best friend second. Shane certainly didn't have a problem with that, and he loved seeing his friend happy and settled. He loved Lori and he adored Carl, and he valued the way they reached out and swept him into their family unit without hesitation or question. 

But to Shane, Rick was his best friend first and Lori's husband and Carl's dad second, and that was ok too. He didn't push, didn't insist, because he knew Rick had responsibilities and Shane himself was footloose and fancy-free. 

But when Rick wanted to get a beer, just the two of them, Shane was all in, consequences- and there were usually consequences- be damned. 

He had a full tank of gas, $100 dollars cash, and an American Express card in his wallet. They were good to go, in Shane's opinion. 

In Shane's Jeep, top down, Rick grinned and held up a much-abused cassette tape labeled 'workout mix' and rolled his eyes at Shane. 

"Seriously? When you gonna upgrade this thing?" 

"What?" Shane asked with a grin, snatching it from Rick's hand and shoving it into the tape deck. "The Jeep or the music? 'Cause I'll tell you, brother, the answer to both is never. Music peaked when we were in high school, man." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say music ain't the only thing that peaked in high school, number 22," Rick muttered. 

"Ouch," Shane shot back, but he was still smiling. He cranked the volume as guitar and drums blasted out loud, proud, and heavy.

Rick shook his head even as his fingers started tapping absently on the frame of the Jeep. "Jesus," he muttered. "Take the next exit, asshole." 

Shane did, flashing a curious look at Rick. "Where we headed? We goin' to Atlanta?" 

Rick nodded. "Yeah, man. Just gotta- gotta get out for awhile." 

"Something going on at home, brother?" Shane asked cautiously. 

Rick made a face and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "Nothing serious. I don't think. Lori and I- we just can't seem to get on the same page, is all. Just a phase, I know. We'll work it out, but I needed to get away. And I think she needed me to get away," he added with a faint smile. 

Shane nodded, accepting that and letting the subject change to some new bar Rick had heard about from one of Lori's book club friend's husband or brother or cousin (Shane stopped listening at book club), but he mulled it over in the back of his mind. Rick looked worried still, and Shane decided a night of patented Walsh-Grimes revelry was exactly what his best friend needed. For once, Rick seemed in the mood to agree, and Shane drummed along on the steering wheel and hummed under his breath as the wind whipped at them both. 

It was gonna be a good night.

The place was few steps up from a dive bar and quite a few steps down from Shane's intended destination with his redhead. As he climbed out of the Jeep, he caught the flash of hair. 

She stood by the back entrance, with a couple of other girls and a guy. They were all clearly staff here, head-to-toe fitted black tee shirts and pants, those tiny black aprons anyone in food service seemed to wear, and- in her case- that cascade of shocking, brilliantly blue hair. 

Shane stared for a minute, trying to decided if he liked it or if it was just so fucking compelling he couldn't look away. As he watched, she laughed, stubbed out the cigarette on the brick wall where someone had spray painted a wall-sized whiskey label with the place's name- Whiskey Lullaby- and logo, and shrugged at one of her friends. She turned to head into the door marked 'staff', and Rick groaned. 

"Shit, brother. You got your eye on someone already? We ain't even in the door yet." 

Shane rolled his eyes and fired back something about how he wasn't that much of a dog, Jesus Rick, and the friendly bickering began as they headed inside.

He finally checked his messages when Rick was in the john and found exactly what he'd expected- how dare you cancel on me at the last minute, we had plans, you're a dick, etc. 

Woman sure lived up to the redhead stereotype, Shane thought. It was half of what had attracted him to her in the first place, a fiery temper and dramatically over-the-top personality. The other half was even more shallow, but shit. Shane knew who he was and didn't care. He wasn't exactly looking for what Rick and Lori had. 

Naw, Shane was more of the shove-him-out-the-window-and-toss-his-clothes-after-him type, not the bring-him-home-to-meet-the-parents type. That was fine with him. He had more fun anyway. 

Rick was on his second beer, Shane still nursing his first because one of them had to drive home, and Rick had been on a rare rant about his home life. Normally the man couched even his genuine gripes against Lori in the nicest possible terms, because Rick loved the shit out of that woman and because Shane's friend was a true Southern gentleman. 

Unlike Shane, who was a true Southern good ol' boy player, but that was neither here nor there. 

By the time that first beer was down and Shane had dropped a few quarters in the jukebox just for the hell of it, Rick had opened up and let forth a blast of built-up anger that had nearly singed Shane's eyebrows from the heat of it. He'd blinked a few times, nodded in the right moments, and made sympathetic noises in others. Rick wasn't after advice, not really, and Shane had learned that a long time ago. He just needed to vent and Shane was always a willing ear. 

Shane was maybe the only person Rick could be brutally, viciously honest with. Which would come pretty soon now, he thought as he watched Rick lean against the bar and order his third beer, from the woman with the blue hair he'd noticed earlier. She had it yanked up into one of those bun things women did, he guessed so it was all out of the way, and she leaned toward Rick to hear him over the crowd forming in the bar. She nodded and held up a hand for patience, and Shane let his mind wander as he watched her line up six shot glasses and start dumping contents of various bottles into one of those shaker things.

Rick knew anything he said to Shane about Lori would go in one ear and out the other, to be forgotten the next morning when sanity prevailed again. Lori had been a part of the fabric of Shane's life almost as much as she'd been part of Rick's, and Shane loved her like a sister- or rather, like his best friend's beloved wife. No matter what Rick said about her when he was pissed, he could count on Shane to forget it all and not hold a grudge against Lori. 

Shane grinned when the blue-haired bartender lit the line of shots on fucking fire and Rick jumped. She laughed at him, passed the flaming shots to a gaggle of delighted newly-twenty-one year old girls, and strolled further down the bar.

Rick came back with two beers and Shane glanced at the clock, considering. They'd been here for two hours, it was a two hour drive back, and they had an eight am call time tomorrow.... 

Fuck it, he thought. He drained the rest of his first beer and slid the second closer, then lifted a lazy hand to flag down the waitress. He could go for some nachos and he knew Rick would eat whatever Shane got. 

He kept half an eye on her through nachos and beer and someone's shit idea of a playlist blaring through the jukebox. Rick was unloading a couple months' worth of marital aggravation on Shane's shoulder, though, and it wasn't like he was interested in trying to pick her up or anything. For one, he was here for Rick. For two, bartenders flirted professionally. Shane had fallen for that once or twice, and he wasn't going to do it again.

He heard the raised voices over the beginnings of the first decent music choice since they'd come in. As he came out of the john, he looked over to see some big, drunk asshole blocking her path, trapping her between the wall, the jukebox, and himself. Shane's eyes narrowed and he took a step toward her, then gave a low whistle of appreciation when she proved she didn't need anyone's help. 

The asshole grabbed at her arm, a 'c'mon, baby, whaddya say?' slurring from his lips. The woman looked downright bored as she shook his hand off and tried again to slide by him, but the guy put up an arm to block her path. She sighed, looked the asshole dead in the eyes with a flirty smile, shifted so slightly Shane would have missed it if he hadn't been watching closely, and slammed a brutal jab into the asshole's nose. 

Asshole staggered backward, hands to nose and yelling about the blood, and she calmly stepped around him. Her eyes met Shane's and Shane gave her a nod of appreciation. She shrugged, winked, and headed back to the bar, scooping up empty plates from a table on the way and sharing a laugh with the occupants. Shane watched, delighted, as the huge security guy hustled the asshole out the door and the bartender slid back into her domain. Her partner, a hipster type with long hair up in a knot on top of his head and the sides shaved, held up a fist and she bumped it without even looking, already reaching for the bottle of tequila and the blender for the college girls leaning over the bar and chattering to her drunkenly. 

Shane made his way back to the table where Rick waited, well on his way to trashed and as amused by the exchange as everyone else. Shane clapped him on the back and reminded him they had work the next morning, which Rick blew off with a wave and a pffft. He shot a hand in the air, two fingers up, and got a nod from the hipster dude behind the bar. 

Shane resigned himself to dealing with Hangover Rick the next morning and spent the rest of the time they were there with one eye on the slugger behind the bar. They stayed until last call, and Shane knew he'd live to regret it.

Last call makes liars of everyone, she liked to say. It was true. That night, Shane and Rick both said they'd be fine in the morning. They weren't. 

The third time he saw her, she said she didn't sleep with guys she met at work. Last call made a liar of her when he tucked that blue hair behind her ear and she whispered that her place was fairly close. After, they laughed and decided they'd stick to seeing each other from either side of the bar. Last call the next week had him grabbing her hand and scrawling his number on it in Sharpie. 

She said she was done with that asshole she was dating, and last call made her a liar about that again and again. She said he wasn't that bad, and one fateful last call had Shane finding her bleeding on the ground outside Whiskey Lullaby.

Shane said he'd take care of her, whispered it to her as he rushed her to the hospital, and last call found her slamming the door in his face and telling him they weren't friends anymore. 

Shane said he'd be there for her even if she didn't want him to be. Last call for the human race found him leaving Rick's dead body in the hospital and running for Carl and Lori, and that was that.

She stepped out of the truck beaten even more to shit than the last time he'd seen her, with her hair three shades of red and orange like literal flames, and old paint all over her jeans and one of those tank tops she loved to wear, with the sides open almost to the bottom and a pretty, lacy bralette thing Shane didn't understand but women seemed to love under it. Shane had been certain she was dead, had told himself that when fire rained on Atlanta so he could maybe find a way to live with the fact that he couldn't make it there to find her. 

And there she stood, making a liar out of him and it wasn't even last call.


	2. Lie #2: "Give People Booze, They Get Less Mean" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentions of drug abuse/drug dealing  
alcohol consumption  
domestic abuse/violence

Shane told some bullshit story about you punching a guy the first time he met you, but you honest to God had no idea what he was talking about. Sure, you'd slugged a few assholes in your day, because while the Whiskey Lullaby was a safe enough place to work, you were a female bartender. But it wasn't like you made a habit of it or anything. You had enough violence in your life without adding more to it just because someone decided to be a dick. You could usually flirt, flatter, or just talk your way out of things, and that was your preferred method. It was how you ended up a bartender, after all.

The first time you realized giving people alcohol made them happy you were six years old. Will came into the dirty, two-bedroom apartment on the shit side of town the four of you called home, and while you didn't remember exactly what had happened, you knew Daryl had gotten in his way and Will had started yelling. 

He was reaching for his belt when Merle put himself between Will and your twin, and you finally came unfrozen. You darted into the kitchen and Will yelled after you about what the hell you thought you were doing. You took a beer from the fridge, carefully carrying the glass bottle because to drop it and have it break would only make things worse. Will blinked at you when you offered it to him solemnly, and started laughing. 

No one took a beating that night, and you remembered falling asleep listening to Daryl and Merle breathing and considering how to make that trick work for you again. Of course, it didn't always, but it did just enough for the lesson to sink in deep- give people booze, they got less mean. Usually. 

The first time you noticed Shane was a Saturday night. The bar was slammed, and you and Jason really should have had a third pair of hands back there with you, but Ellie had been having a bitch fest last week about hours and cost of labor- not that they paid you shit around here- so here you were. Music pumped from the stage as Malcolm and the guys blasted into a cover of London Calling. 

You made your way to the guy to take his order, already reaching for one of the ridiculous Thor-in-Valhalla pint mugs Ellie and Ben had decided to use for draft beer. One look at him- fitted black shirt much like yours that, sure, he filled out well; unbuttoned red flannel; glint of a necklace; cocky smirk at the nineteen year old airhead in here with a fake ID for the third time this week- and your semi-magic sense of what a customer wanted said he was the type to order your darkest stout on draft and then make that face when he took his first sip. Everyone knows the face; the asshole face.

"Hey, honey, what can we get you?" You were distracted, mind roving over the orders you already needed to work on and trying to remember which ones you'd put into the computer and which you hadn't.

"Earplugs," he said promptly, which made you snort. 

"Rock not your jam?" you asked, nodding acknowledgement from Julie as she held up an empty Bud Light and two fingers. You were right in front of the cooler, so you grabbed them and passed them over. 

"Oh no, I love rock. That's just noise," the guy muttered. 

You laughed, because yeah, Mal wasn't doing so hot tonight. That's what he got for going on despite having a nasty cold and two thirds of the rest of Grave Behavior being hungover and high. You'd warned him, but Mal certainly didn't listen to you. Why would he? You'd only been dating on and off since they got the gig here, known him since high school, and listened to Grave Behavior play sets since before they were 'Malcolm Hall and Grave Behavior, the next big thing out of Atlanta's music scene'. Yes, thanks, you'd read the review a few times, Mal.

You tuned back into the guy at the bar, pushing thoughts of the mood Mal was going to be in at the end of the night from your mind. The crowd seemed pretty happy, most of them too drunk already to notice the poor playing, so he probably wouldn't be too pissed.

"Anyway, I'll take a 'Lonely Island in the Middle of a Foggy Sea'," the guy said, humor dancing in his eyes and that cocky smirk on his lips. 

You promptly downgraded him from 'guy' to 'dick' in your head. What did he think this was, stump the bartender night? Damn it, you hated it when customers did this, and you had zero time for it with this crowd. 

"Ace, order up!" came insistently from the kitchen, and some dudebro was trying to flag you down despite the fact that Jason was right fucking there, and you really wanted a cigarette but that wasn't going to happen for a few more hours. 

You sighed and leaned toward the asshole a little, hands flat on the worktop behind the bar. "Look, dickhead, do you see what is going on right now? I've got a margarita frozen, a cosmo, a Jack and Coke, and some asshole ordered a fucking blackberry mojito that all need to be mixed; the kitchen's been yelling for me to come pick up an order since I walked over to you; and any minute now I'm going to get asked to make flaming shots for the college bitches celebrating turning 21 over there at that table. Are you really about to come over here and waste my time with some bullshit drink you Googled while you waited, to see if you can stump the girl bartender? Would you have pulled this shit on Jason? I don't think so. I am too busy to school you properly on bar etiquette on a live-music Saturday night, luckily for you. Here, you'll have a Sam Adams draft and you'll fucking like it." 

He blinked and a faint blush rose on his cheeks, but he nodded acceptance. You filled a God of Thunder mug and slammed it in front of him on your way to the kitchen to respond to the line cook screaming for you. You got too damn busy to keep an eye on the asshole- sure enough, you had to make two rounds of flaming shots and then call a couple of reputable cabs for the celebrants in the corner- and by the time you made it back toward that end of the bar, he was gone. 

He left his empty draft mug on top of a twenty- insane for one damn draft- and a napkin. He'd scrawled 'sorry I was an asshole. I'll do better next time. Shane' on the napkin, and you shook your head, rolled your eyes, and shoved both the napkin and the twenty into your apron, because Jason was calling you and Mal was going on break soon and would want to show off his 'hot bartender girlfriend' for the guys. 

You went home with Mal, even though you told him you were too tired for sex. He didn't care, riding what he called the 'gig high' and you called him being an asshole. When he went from trying to convince you that you did want it to yelling at you about the note from Shane he found in your apron, you gave in and let him do what he wanted. It was easier than trying to reason with him that it had been a busy fucking night and you'd just shoved it in there along with everything else. Proving your loyalty was always easier and faster than logical discussion when Mal decided to go on a tear. 

And last call made liars out of everyone. Even you.

At least he wasn't drunk this time, and there wouldn't be any bruises. 

The second time you saw Shane, he didn't know you did. 

You'd gotten the call from Atlanta PD while you were painting, less than a week after he'd been at the bar, and you'd tossed your gear bag in the trunk and headed over, spray paint on your hands and clothes and all. Your hair was tucked up under a beanie, and you were busy with the still-high asshole of a big brother you'd come to pick up from the drunk tank, trying to convince Merle to just get in the damn passenger side already, would you please?

You didn't talk to your brothers much these days, partly because when you and Mal were together he didn't want you to and partly because you didn't want the lifestyle they were in. Merle was dealing and drifting through life and Atlanta's criminal scene, and Daryl, for some reason that frustrated the shit out of, was following him. Literally. 

Whenever you got together for the occasional meal when Mal would dump you for whatever Grave Behaviors groupie had caught his eye this time, you'd end up arguing. You would ask why he wasn't doing something more with his life, because he was too damn good at practically everything to just pick up odd work and follow Merle around. Daryl would get pissed and say family took care of each other, and that's what he was doing with Merle. Merle took care of the two of you as kids, getting in Will's way all the time, and Daryl was trying to pay him back. 

Unlike you, since you'd abandoned them both for Malcolm. He'd sneer Mal's name like it was dog shit, like he had ever since you all had been in the same classes in high school, and ask if you hadn't called in two months because Malcolm didn't want you to. You'd ask why it was fine for Daryl to be loyal to someone but not for you, and 'because we're family' just wouldn't fly. 

Merle hadn't done shit for you as kids. Oh, he'd picked up a few of the beatings that were aimed yours and Daryl's way, but most of the time Merle wasn't even there because he was cooling his jets in juvie. Whenever he was there, he made more trouble with Will, and he booked it the minute he turned eighteen and never looked back. Why the fuck did the fact that you shared a parent- one, Will; you and Daryl had a different mom than Merle- make him deserving of your loyalty? 

But you loved the two assholes, really you did, so when they called and needed to be picked up, here you were.

You glanced back once you'd wrestled him in, bitched at him to buckle his seat belt, and slammed the door, narrowly missing his fingers. Good riddance; he was being even more of a jerk than normal, and you'd been in the zone, damn it. Leaving an Ace piece unfinished was bad for your slowly developing rep, which affected your revenue stream, which affected your ability to bail his ass out of jail. 

A cruiser with King County Sheriff's Office emblazoned across the side came pulling up as you ducked around to the driver's door of your car, and you nodded at the guy in the passenger side as they passed you. He looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn't have said why or where you'd seen him. 

As you looked in the rearview mirror and ignored Merle's angry rant about PD pigs and profiling and the state of the fucking union, you saw the driver climb out and couldn't believe your eyes. 

Of course Obscure Cocktail Dickhead was a cop. Of course, you thought dryly, and headed to dump Merle back at his current shitty hellhole of a place. You had a piece to finish. 

Daryl tried to get you to stay in the damn truck- his words- and you knew he was probably right. But he and Merle were arguing and you were staring at the Jeep and wishing you hadn't been in the fucking hospital when shit hit the fan because then you might have had a chance to text your friends before the phones went out. You were worried about everyone with the mess the three of you had fought your way through to get out of town- Jason, Ellie and Ben, everyone else at Whiskey Lullaby, Maria, who owned the gallery that showcased your work. Shane. 

Shane was far enough outside of the city, way out there in King fucking County, you hoped he'd escaped anything. 

You wished you hadn't slammed the door in his face that night. You wished you'd responded to any of the messages he'd sent you since then, for months, just telling you he was there. You wished you'd reached out to him when you got your head on straight and realized he was right about Malcolm, but by then the messages had stopped. He was done worrying about you; done reaching out to someone who didn't want to be helped. 

And, well, shit happened. Painful shit, that landed you in the hospital for your brothers to come rescue when you the dead began to stand up and munch on people. Ironic, considering the direction you'd been going with your pieces before Mal decided to beat the ever loving shit out of you for filing a restraining order. 

'Urban Decay' took on a whole new meaning when Daryl came busting into your hospital room, tossed you clothes, and told you to get the fuck up, you had to get out of there right now. 

You got tired of waiting in the truck, half-healed injuries and overprotective brothers be damned. Despite how things went with Mal, you could take care of yourself, damn it. 

You weren't a victim, you thought angrily. You'd helped them make their way out of the city, hadn't you? And you'd been the one to suggest heading up here and looking for Will's hunting shack, two nights ago when you'd been sitting on the tailgate of the truck while Daryl and Merle argued over what to do next, watching Atlanta get bombed with helicopters and napalm. 

You shoved your door open and slid out of the cab, knees nearly buckling when you hit the ground. Two weeks in the hospital had taken care of the worst of the damage- like from where he'd shoved the glass from your coffee table into your side- and they'd been planning on discharging you the morning after Daryl broke you out, but you were still weak.

"Damn it, Ace!" Daryl snarled. 

"I'm fine!" You snapped it at him and started forward, leaning on the truck to sort of help yourself along. Fine was relative. Last week you'd been worse and so far you weren't lunch for a dead guy, so you were fine. "Who's in the-" 

You cut off abruptly, eyes going wide despite the way one was still covered in pretty pretty colors and felt tight. Then you smiled, cracking open the split lip you were beginning to think was permanent. You couldn't believe it, but there he was. Six months of radio silence and the end of the world, and Shane was here to rescue you again.

"Hey, Dickhead," you said easily. 

Shane stared at you, shoved a hand through his hair, and shook his head. "Hey, Slugger. What the hell happened to your face?" 

"Mal got pissed when I told him to fuck off," you said with a shrug, and watched something cold and ugly cross Shane's eyes. You'd only seen it once before, in a hospital room when he asked who'd hit you and you said it was fine. 

"I told you to-" he snarled, and you talked over him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know-" Seriously, after six months of silence and the end of the world, he was going to start on this shit already? Shane took three steps toward you and Merle was suddenly between you and him. 

"I hate to break up whatever little bizarre reunion's goin' on here, Ace, but who the fuck is this asshole?" 

Wasn't that an interesting question? you thought. Just who was he to you, after all? 

You shrugged and gestured helplessly. "It's Shane."

Your phone chimed in the dark and you reached for it with a groan. It wasn't Malcolm, since he was still in a snit from your latest fight, and it'd be a few days before he showed up with roses or chocolates or his guitar and the latest Grave Behaviors single he wrote for you. Hopefully it wasn't Daryl or Merle needing to be bailed out or picked up. You were tired, and besides, you'd used the bail money fund last month when you got busted working on that bridge piece. Totally worth it, but still. 

\--Hey, Slugger. Haven't heard from you in awhile. Just got off a pisser of a shift and I was thinking about you. Working tomorrow? 

You smiled and tapped out a response. 

\--Hey, Dickhead. I've been busy, and Mal's been in a mood. Sorry about the shift. Wanna talk about it? I'm off tomorrow, actually.

You scrubbed at your eyes as you waited for the response to come in, pleased you'd looked at the phone. You didn't talk to Shane all the time or anything, and you missed him during your periods of radio silence. Funny how it was always middle of the night when you reached out to each other. At least you had the excuse of working at the Lullaby, and texting him after you got home. Shane swore up and down he didn't only reach out to you when he was lonely, but here it was, middle of the night again, and you were on his mind. 

Last call made liars of everyone, after all. 

\--When you going to get rid of that bastard for good? He does know you're allowed to have fucking friends, right?

You scowled and started to type something defending Mal, because yeah he was an asshole sometimes but most of the time he was the same sweet boy with rock star dreams you'd sat next to in algebra. No one seemed to get why you stuck with him despite the on-again-off-again shit; not Shane, not Jason or Ellie or anyone else at the Lullaby. Certainly not Daryl or Merle. 

They just didn't get it. Malcolm was a rock star; an artist. He certainly put up with enough of your moody artist bullshit, and the way you had to flirt with everyone in sight for tips. They didn't get that you weren't exactly easy to be with yourself, and-

\--Can I call you?

You rolled your eyes and called him instead. He picked up on the first ring. 

"Hey, Ace." 

"Hey," you said, instantly worried. He sounded tired and sad. "Stop calling me that. You sound like shit." 

He sighed loudly. "Thanks," he said dryly. "Been a rough day, that's all. And it ain't like you like Slugger any better." 

"That's fair," you muttered. "I mean, I have a name. It's halfway decent, so you could always give it a try. Wanna talk about it? The shit day, I mean." 

You sat up and turned on the light, grabbing the sketchbook you kept on the nightstand with a glance at the clock. "Three in the morning? Damn, don't you get off at like six?" 

"Yeah, I do. Usually." 

Shit, he sounded bad, you thought. You started sketching him as you pictured him, laying on his own bed with an arm tossed over his eyes. Legs crossed at the ankles, boots still on. Uniform shirt off, duty belt beside him. 

"What are you doing right now?" you asked him, trying to distract him from whatever had happened. You knew something was weighing him down. 

He snorted. "Just- honestly, I don't know. Just layin' here." 

"You take your boots off yet?" 

There was a pause that you knew meant no, and you smirked a little. Four years into this bizarre friendship and you knew the man well. You started on the details of his face, filling in from memory the unnatural frown you'd only seen a few times, the circles he'd have under his eyes from exhaustion, the hair, the way one fist would be clenched beside his ear. His phone tucked between his cheek and his shoulder; other hand wrapped around a beer. 

"What the hell are you doin' awake, anyway?" he asked finally. 

"I wasn't. You woke me up," you told him, frowning as you shaded in wrinkles in the tee he always wore under his uniform. 

"Shit. I'm sorry, Ace. Shouldn't have bugged you." 

"Don't be. I'm not. You really do sound like shit," you said. 

"Yeah, thanks. Wanna hang out tomorrow? I could use a friend." 

You rolled your eyes and smiled up at your ceiling. "I'm not sleeping with you again. I've got a job tomorrow afternoon." 

"Not what I meant, though I didn't think we were that bad together," he said dryly. "Thought you said you were off." 

"Not the bar. Paint job. Legal wall, Deputy, don't worry. I mean, that's what you call those walking one night stands you date, so how am I to know? And tt's been four years, I think I'm done stroking your ego over the one time we hooked up." 

You heard the moment he started smiling. "My ego don't need stroking, girl."

"Dirty, Shane," you teased, but you were grinning now. You added the loose shape of his uniform shirt in a lump on the floor, cap declaring 'police' on top of it.

"Yeah, yeah. Mind if I come watch?" 

You shoved the pencil behind your ear and looked at your sketch, running your fingertips over it and blending it lightly. He looked sad, and you were glad he didn't sound that way in your ear anymore. "That'd be cool. Mal's pissed at me anyway, so he won't be hovering over my shoulder. Get some sleep. Be at my place at ten." 

"Shit, that's early," he muttered. "Seriously, how many times I gotta tell you to dump that man's ass?" 

"Shane-"

"I know, I don't know him like you do. Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow. Night, Slugger." 

You rolled your eyes as you set the sketchbook back down, flipping off the light. "Night, Dickhead."

At the top of the hill, Shane swung from his Jeep and started talking to a gathered knot of people. You tried to pay attention to details and assess threats and shit like Merle harped on and Daryl actually fucking did, but frankly, you were tired and the potholes hadn't done you any favors, that was for sure. There was a older guy, a couple of blondes, an Asian guy, a Hispanic family, and a brunette with a kid somewhere around ten who both stared at Shane like he'd hung the fucking moon. There were others, but Daryl was putting the truck in park, and Merle probably wasn't the best first impression you guys could make. 

"Cain't believe ya friends with a fuckin' cop. Merle's gonna shit a brick," Daryl'd muttered as he followed Shane's Jeep up the road. 

You sighed. "Why do you think you two never met him?" 

"Hey, I ain't the one with a criminal record, Ace," Daryl shot back. 

Yeah, you had to give him that one. Somehow, he was the only one of you who hadn't managed to get arrested. "Can't believe he's here. I can't believe whatever this shit is spread far enough to reach King fucking County." 

"Yeah, it's everywhere. Ain't seen more helicopters, since they bombed the place. Government's probably in shambles. Good thing I got my crossbow. Gonna need to hunt and shit," Daryl'd said. "Merle's gonna be a problem." 

"Merle's always a problem. We'll manage it," you said with a shrug. "Do me a favor and miss a hole every now and then, would you? Shake things up a little." 

You opened the door wearily, intercepting Merle as he started to stride up to the group. They all looked scared, tired, and nervous about new people. You could relate. The quarry had been Daryl and Merle's idea, gaining high ground as a base until you could heal up and they could make a plan. These guys must have had the same thought, and they didn't need your brother's godawful manners when he was high making things worse. 

"Let me do the talking," you told Merle firmly. "I know Shane." 

He tipped you a lazy, suggestive wink. "Aight, little sister. But ya know ol' Merle's sweet as sugar when he wants to be." 

"Shit," you muttered and headed up there before he could say anything else. 

"Shane, who are- oh my God, are you all right?" The brunette had been eyeing the three of you warily, but her expression changed to concern when she got a look at your face. 

Shane turned and took a couple steps in your direction, reaching for your arm. You waved him off and flashed your professional smile at the group. "I'm fine, thank you. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. I'm YN, but you can call me Ace, everyone does. These are my brothers, Daryl and Merle. We made it out of Atlanta a couple days ago, and we've been looking for somewhere to hole up and make a plan. When we ran into Dickhead here- I mean, Shane-" you corrected as the man in question half-laughed, "I couldn't believe our luck." 

"Shane, you- you know them?" Brunette said slowly, looking between the two of you. 

Shane nodded. "Yeah, Slugger's-" 

"You're Slugger?" she cut him off, pointing at you. "How in the- what happened to you?" 

You shot the deputy a questioning look, wondering just who the hell this woman was. Shane sighed and ran a hand over his hair, shifting in place and looking vaguely guilty. You waved a hand, starting to just dismiss the question, because you so did not want to go into all that before you had a chance to privately ask Shane to forgive you for being an asshole, and half-turned toward your brothers. Merle wouldn't stay in the background forever, and you had to make a good enough impression that they wouldn't immediately lynch him when he said something racist, sexist, or both. 

You forgot how fucked up you still were, though, and saw stars when you turned. 

The next thing you knew, you were opening your eyes on a bed in the RV with Shane and Merle's angry voices filtering to you from outside.


	3. Lie #3: "I Gave As Good As I Could, Ok?" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
domestic violence/abuse  
victim-blaming mindset

"Hey, Daryl, listen, I- I need your help," you whispered into the phone, hands shaking. 

Five months you'd been denying it. Five months since Mal had seen you laughing with Shane at the bar and gone fucking off on you after last call. Five months since you'd told your best friend- hell, your only real friend outside of work- that you couldn't be friends anymore. 

The last message you'd gotten from him had been two weeks ago now. 

\-- Hey Ace. Still here.

Four little words, and you'd stared at them and the string of unanswered messages for damn near half a year. Like clockwork, every other day in the first few weeks, then every few days, then twice a week for months. Now it'd been two weeks, and you were starting to think those four words were another last call lie. 

Not that you blamed him. You'd slammed the door in his face when he tried to help you and ignored him for months. 

Now you wanted help and he wasn't there, but, well. If you were serious, you knew who would be. As bad an idea as it was to get your brothers involved, there was no one better to have your back. 

Except, a voice in your head said treacherously, maybe a cop.

The last thing you wanted to do after accidentally passing out, helping Daryl diffuse a fight between Shane and Merle, and convincing your asshole older brother that he did not, in fact, need to do another line was sit around a campfire singing kumbaya and exchanging Sordid Backstories with these people. 

Unfortunately, Merle was snoring like a freight train already and Daryl had disappeared into the woods after two point seven seconds, claiming he saw deer sign. You suspected he just didn't want to handle the people part of the equation. 

A social butterfly, your twin was not. Merle had joked you'd gotten all the friendly genes in the family. 

So you sucked it up, grabbed a bottle of water, a blanket, and a folding chair from Daryl's truck, and headed toward the fire. Shane jumped up when he saw you coming and took the chair from your hands, muttering at you as he set it up and Lori, the brunette, watched with an expression somewhere between wary and interested. Glass of white wine, you decided. Not the most expensive but not house brand either. 

The brunette and the kid were Lori and Carl, Shane's partner Rick's wife and kid. You didn't know where Rick was, and from the way Shane didn't meet your eyes, something very bad had happened. You needed to talk to him alone, but that wasn't happening right now. 

"So, YN," the old man said, holding out a plate to you. "What's your story?" 

You accepted the plate with muttered thanks as Shane settled back on the log he was using as a chair, between you and Lori and Carl. Lori offered you a tight smile. 

"Yes. I'm so happy to finally meet Shane's mysterious Atlanta friend. He talked about you a lot, and then, ah..." she trailed off, looking uncomfortable. You looked down at your plate instead of at Shane. 

"Come on, Lor," Shane muttered. "You guys, leave her alone. Let her get acclimated before you start pestering her with questions, Jesus." 

You reached over and touched his arm. "No, it's ok. I figured when I came over I'd be answering questions. I don't blame you. Three random strangers show up, one's an asshole, one's downright taciturn, and one's clearly been beat to hell and back. I wouldn't have let us stay, that's for sure." 

Muted laughter ran around the fire, and you took a quick bite from the plate you'd been given.

Dale, the old man, shook his head with a smile. Bourbon or scotch, straight up, you decided. One glass that he sipped all night while people watching. "Shane vouching for you goes a long way. He's pulled us all together in the past few days, that's for sure." 

You smiled down at him when Shane waved that off and muttered a denial. "Yeah, I can believe that. He's got a bit of a hero complex." 

You could have kicked yourself when Shane winced and ran a hand through his hair, not looking up at you.

"Damn it, Walsh! I don't need to be rescued, no matter what you and your fucking hero complex think!" You'd screamed the words at him from your door, head throbbing and every part of you feeling scrapped raw. "I didn't ask for your help!" 

"Yeah? Well, you fucking need it! Come on, he slapped you hard enough to leave his hand on your face and knocked you into the trailer hitch on his dumbass truck, and then he left you there! You going to wait till he kills you?" Shane roared back, throwing his hands up just a little too fast, a little too angrily. 

You flinched back and he froze, lowering his arms slowly as he held your gaze. Heat flooded your cheeks and you set your shoulders, lifted your chin, and narrowed your eyes at him. "I don't want to press charges. He was upset because I hid hanging out with you from him. He thought I was cheating on him, and I accused him of being paranoid and insecure. It was my fault, and you had no right to go behind my back and file a report." 

Shane ran both hands through his hair, staring at the wall beside your head instead of at your face. "Sweetheart, do you even hear yourself? This bastard isolates you, puts you down, accuses you of shit left and right, and I suspect this ain't the first time he's hit you and you just haven't said a word. You know what we call that? Domestic violence, Slugger. Abuse. He ain't gonna stop, and he's got you all twisted around so you think it's your fault. Please, please, let me help you. File the report, get a restraining order, and I'll be with you every step of the way. You deserve better than-" 

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you told him quietly. Tears slid down your cheeks, because no. You didn't deserve better than Mal. And it was your fault. Mal put up with a lot from you, what with your mood swings, your job, everything. He dealt with you flirting with customers for tips; he was right that you shouldn't be hanging out with other guys and making it worse for him. 

Shane didn't get it. No one seemed to get it, damn it. Mal loved you. It was just that the band was starting to get noticed and things were rough at work, and he didn't need the added stress of worrying about you cheating on him while he was trying to make their first record. Grave Behavior was his focus, and you needed to be more supportive. 

Shane groaned and reached out a hand toward you. "Come on, Slugger, you-" 

"Stop it. Shane, just stop it! If you can't deal with how I chose to handle my relationship, maybe Mal's right. We shouldn't be friends," you snapped. 

It hurt. It hurt more than the cut on your forehead or Mal's slap had. But you had to do what was best for you. Malcolm was your boyfriend, not Shane. Mal came first. 

Shane looked down at the floor, jaw working as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Ok. Ok. You have my number, sweetheart. When you're ready, you use it. You reach out, I'll be here." 

"I won't. This wasn't your call, Deputy Walsh. I'm not some battered woman on one of your shifts that needs a rescue," you said firmly, covering the loss with hard words. 

He turned to go as you started to close the door, glancing over his shoulder at you with exhausted regret in his eyes. "Yeah, Ace, you are." 

"Fuck you, Shane!" you yelled, and slammed the door in his face. 

"Uncle Shane is a hero," the kid piped up. 

Shane blushed, but you smiled over at the little guy. "You're exactly right, Carl." 

"Aw, stop it, Slugger," Shane said with an eye roll. "Don't encourage them." 

"Why the fuck does this asshole keep callin' ya Slugger, baby sister?" Merle drawled from the dark and he came up and collapsed beside you. 

The mood around the campfire immediately shifted, open faces becoming tense, and you grimaced. "What are you doing awake? You were snoring ten minutes ago." 

"Had to piss," Merle answered, and eyed the plate in your hands. You handed it over with a sigh, knowing when he started coming down, he got hungry. Him coming down could only be a good thing, so you'd put up with him eating everything in sight for awhile. 

"That's lovely. Watch your mouth, would you? There's kids here," you told him as he started shoveling it in. 

"I'm curious about the Slugger nickname as well. You already go by Ace. How many nicknames do you have?" It was the younger of the blonde sisters, Amy, who asked with a shy smile. She was a cocktail, you decided, a cosmo or Sex on the Beach maybe. Andrea was tequila in a shot glass, with a lime chaser.

You glanced at Shane to find him grinning at you. "Yeah, Dickhead. Why do you call me Slugger all the time?" 

"Why do you call me Dickhead?" he shot back, and both of you were beaming at each other and laughing. 

You caught the glances around the fire, fond amusement in everyone's eyes but Lori's. Lori just looked wary, and you wondered what was up with that. 

"Ace was my nickname as a kid, and it became my tag," you told them, easing around how you'd gotten the nickname. None of these people needed to know Will had called you his 'ace in the hole', his secret weapon against CPS with wide eyes and a trembling lip and lying skills that can only be learned young. "I'm Slugger because he swears when he met me the first time I punched some jerk who was hassling me at work. I don't have any idea what he's talking about, as I'm always the soul of decorum. He's Dickhead because the first time I remember seeing him, he bellied up to the bar on a live-music Saturday and tried to play 'stump the bartender' by ordering some obscure cocktail and thinking I wouldn't know what it was because I'm a girl. You know, like a dickhead," you told them, and Shane made a face at you while everyone laughed. 

"But did you know it?" Glenn asked. 

You scoffed. "Please. Of course not, but no one else did either." 

"So you met at a bar?" Amy pressed.

"Yeah, an' they bumped uglies at one too," Merle put in. You reached down and smacked him on the back of his head. 

"Why do you have to be like that?" you demanded. "Eat your food, take your piss, and go back to sleep." 

Merle flashed you a grin. "Already took my piss, baby sister, and I'll do what I please." 

"Yeah, you usually do. Sit there and shut up then," you mumbled. "You make my head hurt." 

"That's probably them knocks ya let that asshole give ya, not me," he shot back. "Thought I taught ya better'n that." 

"Maybe if you hadn't landed your ass in a cell, you'd have been around to help me like you said you would," you snapped, finally getting pissed. "I gave as good as I could, ok? He was high- on your shit, I might add- and he hits fucking hard." 

Shane's hand wrapped around yours where it was clenched against your thigh. "Wish you'd called me. I told you I'd be there," he said flatly. 

You turned from glaring at Merle as he snorted eloquently and looked at Shane, swallowing against the lump in your throat and the burning in your eyes. "I couldn't," you whispered back. "Not after- I just couldn't." 

He nodded, but he looked like he didn't believe you. Everyone was staring openly now and you sighed and scrubbed a hand across your eyes. "I have- had- an abusive boyfriend. He's why I'm the ravishing creature you see before you today. Shane tried to help me about six months ago and I- well. It wasn't pretty. I'm sorry," you added to him. 

He shook his head, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "Naw. Don't. I overstepped. We got training, me and Rick, and it all went out the window when I saw- I knew better than to push that hard. I should have kept reachin' out to you though. I- some shit happened on my end as well. I'm sorry too, Slugger." 

"Well, ain't this the sweetest damn thing ya ever heard," Merle drawled. You sighed and flipped him off without looking. "Well. Thanks for the grub, baby sister. Y'all just gonna sit around yappin' about life stories and shit, I'm goin' back to sleep. Don't make too damn much noise out here, would ya? An' just let me know if you and the cop decided ya need some alone time," he added, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he bent and planted a kiss on your cheek. 

You rolled your eyes. "You're an asshole, Merle. Go away before I practice self-defense on you." 

"You'll hurt them ribs if ya try, Ace."


	4. Lie #4: "It Didn't Have Anything To Do With Being A Hero"  - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
supposed character death  
domestic violence/abuse

Merle Dixon was a fucking asshole, Shane thought as he watched him stagger away. A breath of relief moved over the group gathered by the fire, including a long sigh from Ace at his side. He realized he was still holding her hand, squeezed it, and let go. 

Lori, he noticed, was watching him closely, and Shane offered her a guilt-fueled smile. Lori and Rick had heard him talk about Slugger when they started hanging out. He talked to Rick a lot after he found out that bastard was hitting her as well as isolating her, and she wouldn't let him help. Rick was the one who set him straight that he couldn't help her if she didn't want him to. 

Rick might have also said something about him having a goddamn hero complex, and Shane had snapped that it didn't have anything to do with being a hero. She was being hurt and she was his friend, and he wanted to help her, that's all. 

Rick had given him that knowing look and Shane had rolled his eyes and told his buddy it wasn't like that. Sure, they'd hooked up once. The third time Shane went to the bar, actually. But they'd decided the next time he strolled in that they would be better friends than lovers, and that was what they were. 

Now Shane looked from Lori's eyes back to Ace. "How hurt are you?" he asked quietly as the conversation around the fire turned to food and water and the immediate questions of survival. 

Shane knew he'd have to get involved in that debate, that he'd have to come up with answers and solutions and figure out what to do about the trouble he could already tell that Merle was going to make. But for now, he needed to know if he was making a solo run into Atlanta to look for one Malcolm Hall, guitarist and abusive fuck. 

She rolled her eyes and made a face like she knew what he was thinking already and was annoyed by it. 

She'd just have to fucking be annoyed, he thought grimly. He didn't care if she didn't like it. She wasn't looking at herself right now. 

One eye was black and blue so far down her cheekbone that Shane knew it hadn't been long since it was swollen totally shut. Her lip had bleed twice since he'd seen her hop out of the truck and practically buckle, she had a pinched look around her eyes Shane was starting to realize he'd seen way too often on her over the five years they'd been friends, and she'd passed out on the fucking spot when she turned too fast earlier. 

Shane had caught her, taken her into the RV, and gotten in a fight with that shithead Merle over where to put their fucking tent, of all things. His little sister he claimed to care about had just passed out and the bastard was arguing over a campsite. Shane shouldn't have been surprised, considering what she'd told him about her brothers over the years. Shane knew they hadn't had the best childhood and that she loved them but they didn't approve of her choices and she thought Merle was dragging Daryl down with him. 

It hurt to realize she'd called them for help with that bastard and not him, and Merle hadn't been there for her anyway. Shane would have dropped everything and run to her if she'd reached out. 

Of course, he'd stopped trying. He'd be kicking himself for that for awhile, he thought grimly. Just add it to the load- like not seeing the third man, like not being able to do more to save Rick, like what was happening with Lori, like not knowing how to save the world. Like not reading between the lines with Ace earlier, years earlier, before she got in so deep. Some cop Shane turned out to be. 

\-- Hey Slugger. I know how we left it, but I want you to know I'm here if you need anything, anything at all.

\-- Hey Slugger. Just checking on you. Miss you. 

\-- Ace. Let me know you're ok, please? That's all I want. 

\-- Go back to the doctor and get checked up on, please.

\-- Come on, sweetheart. I know you're pissed but it's been a month and I haven't heard anything from you. 

\--Hey. Checking in again. I'm always going to be here, if you want me to be or not.

\--Slugger, come on. Please just tell me you're ok.

\--You don't have to say anything. 

\--I miss you.

\--Look, I get that you're pissed, but you haven't changed your number. I'm gonna take that as you want to leave this door open, so just know it is.

\-- Hey. 

\--I stopped by Whiskey Lullaby and they told me you're doing ok. They wouldn't let me in, so thanks for that. Didn't think you'd go that far, but I get it. Don't be pissed at Jason for talking to me, he's worried about you too. 

\--I'm still here for you, Ace.

\-- Can you just throw me a bone? Just a small one?

\--Hope you're doing ok. Saw you started a new series. I like the one with the zombie cop, that felt pointed. Maybe I'm flattering myself there.

\--Saw that article of you online. Love the hair. You know I got a soft spot for it blue.

\--I miss you. Hope you're ok. I'm in Atlanta to testify in a case today, saw your piece on 10th. You're damn good, Slugger.

Shane scrolled through the messages with a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He turned to the computer and pulled up her name first, glancing through her record with zero qualms. She'd told him about all this shit after all, and it was all the same- graffiti, graffiti, graffiti. Shane could practically hear her eye roll in his head. Shit, she'd gotten picked up again. Charges dropped though, when the owner of the building recognized her tag. 

He was proud of her for that. She really was good. Shit, he had one of her sketches in his locker right now, just some quick idea she'd whipped up for an new piece while they talked at the bar on a slow night. She'd pulled a sketchbook from under the counter, doodled it up as she tried to describe it, and handed it to him. So he could match it up later, she'd joked, even though he could pick her style up before he got close enough to see a tag.

He hesitated with his fingers on the keys, because what he was about to do would be a violation in her eyes. He didn't care. He only had so many ways of checking up on her, and she wasn't answering his texts. He adjusted the hat on his head and reminded himself that keeping tabs on a known domestic abuser was fully legitimate police business. 

Not that he was one of Shane's cases or even anywhere in Shane's jurisdiction, and that didn't touch on the gross conflict of interest. Who gave a shit, he decided, and hit search. 

Nothing new, he thought tiredly. Which didn't mean nothing was happening. 

"Malcolm Hall again?" Rick asked from behind him. 

Shane sighed and leaned back in his chair, not even trying to hide the worry. Rick knew. Shit, Shane had talked to Rick and Lori a little about her over the years- how could he not? She'd snuck up and turned into his other best friend, even if they'd go several weeks or a month without so much as a hello, she'd text or he would and they'd slip right back into place. 

He never thought he'd want to hear someone call him Dickhead as much as he did these days. 

It'd been four months since she'd slammed the door in his face, and nothing. Rick had talked him down about going after the asshole more times than Shane could count; had given him advice and even, on one night after they'd gotten a domestic disturbance call that left Shane seeing red and ready to kill the asshole with his bare hands, had sat Shane down and told him he had to put her out of his mind. 

"She has to come to you, brother. All you can do is make sure she knows you're there for her. But you got to put it away when we're on the job," Rick had said. 

Shane tried. He really did. 

"Yeah," he answered Rick now. "Been four months, Rick." 

"She hasn't reached out at all?" Rick asked, leaning on Shane's desk and crossing his arms. Rick was doing that thing, that look that had people spilling their guts, and damn if it didn't work on Shane too. 

He shook his head and picked up his phone again, staring at the string of unanswered messages. "I know. I've gotta stop thinkiing about it," he muttered when he caught Rick's look. 

Shane found himself typing without thinking about it. 

\-- Hey, Slugger. Thinking about you. Look, it's not the middle of the night, see? It's not last call, it's the middle of the damn afternoon. I miss you.

"Actually," Rick's voice sounded vaguely amused, "I was wondering when you were going to admit you've got it bad for her." 

Shane scoffed and shoved to his feet. "Shut up, man. She's a friend. A friend in danger, even if she won't admit it." 

"A friend you hooked up with."

"What the hell's that got to do with it?" Shane snapped. "Just- never mind. Come on, let's get our asses in the car and catch some bad guys." 

"I'm fine," Ace said now. "I've got a couple broken ribs, but he missed everything important when he stabbed me and that's almost healed anyway." 

"He fucking stabbed you?" Shane snapped, too loudly. 

She winced and conversations around the fire stopped. "Uh. Yeah. It's ok, though. It's mostly healed." 

"Shit," Shane swore. "I'm gonna take a walk. Go to bed, Ace." 

She eyed him warily as he stood up and looked down at her. "Merle's probably snoring up a storm in there. I'll give him a little longer, plus I want to make sure Daryl gets back. And also, don't tell me what to do." 

"Uncle Shane tells everyone what to do," Carl said. "Mom doesn't listen to him either." 

"But you do," Lori said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, it's time for us to go to bed too. See you all in the morning. Shane, can I have a word?" 

Shane winced as she rose. A faint chuckle ran around the fire again, someone muttering 'uh-oh, Shane's in trouble'. 

Ace waved lazily at him as he fell into step with Lori and Carl, before smiling over at Andrea and Amy and answering a question. 

At Lori and Carl's tent, she sent the kid on in and turned to Shane, her arms crossed and expression concerned. "Shane, who are these people? I know you've been friends with her for awhile, but what about her brothers? Merle is-" Lori broke off and made a face. 

"What do you really want to know, Lor?" Shane asked quietly. "Look, I don't like Merle Dixon and I'm not real sure about Daryl either, but what do you want me to do? She's my friend, and she's hurt." 

"Is she just your friend?" Lori asked quietly. 

Shane ran a hand through his hair. "Why, you jealous?" 

"That wasn't nice." 

Shane swallowed and nodded, shuffling in place. "You're right. She's my friend. They're her brothers. They're in, ok?" 

"Do you trust them?" Lori asked.

"I trust her. Go on to bed before Carl gets worried." Shane glanced around automatically, then leaned in and brushed a kiss against Lori's lips. "Good night." 

The last text he composed to Ace he never sent. It was after Rick got shot, while Shane sat in the ambulance and tried to figure out how the hell to tell Lori her husband was hurt and it was his fault for not paying enough attention. He should have seen the movement. He should have known. 

But he was caught up in the relief that Rick's vest had turned the first one, and- 

Shane's fingers had left blood smeared on the keys as he opened her contact and started typing before he thought. 

\-- Rick's been shot. I don't know what to do, Slugger.

The EMT called his name and Shane shoved the phone back in his pocket without hitting send. They'd reached the hospital and Shane had to answer a bunch of questions about Rick as they wheeled his best friend into surgery and wouldn't tell him anything. 

Then he had to haul ass to the school, and watch Lori's face go pale and tight, the first time she'd ever looked at him with anything other than a welcoming smile. Shane meant that text, had meant it every day in the month since then. 

Rick's been shot. I don't know what to do. 

He spent weeks in and out of Rick's hospital room, splitting all his time between work, Rick's side, and Rick and Lori's house. Hell, Shane never even went back to his place except to grab more clothes and head back to Lori's. He stayed with her, in the spare room that had been referred to by every member of the Grimes' clan as 'Shane's room' for years. He had to be there, to be close to them. 

Rick would want him to take care of them, and that's what Shane wanted too. They were his family as well. 

He kept one ear on the rumors about Atlanta, and thought about Ace a couple of times, but he had his hands full with everything going on in King County. Then they were gunning people down in the hallway of the hospital while he was waiting on the airlift that never came, and Rick died when he tried to save him. 

Shane had his ear to Rick's chest and the man wasn't breathing. No heartbeat, nothing. Shane wondered if his friend had been dead for a month already and they'd been fooling themselves until the machines were down. 

He got out, he got Lori and Carl, and he ran. 

The night they bombed Atlanta, she came to him. She was terrified, and they'd just made it up here to the quarry, Shane leading them off the main road along with most of this rag-tag band of survivors- Carol, Ed, and Sophia; the Morales' family; Glenn with his pizza delivery bag full of ingredients from his store that he'd raided before he left Atlanta; Jaqui and T Dog and Jim. They found one old man in an RV and Andrea and Amy already here and welcoming people, and as soon as Carl said 'Uncle Shane's a cop like my dad was', they all started looking to him for leadership. 

He stepped the fuck up because what else could he do, and that night Lori came wandering to where he walked the road, staring into the distance at what was left of Atlanta and wondering what the hell was happening to the world. 

"Shane?" she'd whispered, and he'd pulled her into a hug. She'd held on, curled against his chest like he'd seen her curled against Rick's before. 

Somehow, in telling her it was going to be ok, they'd both started weeping over Rick. Somehow, he'd ended up kissing his best friend's wife, and he honestly didn't know how that had happened. 

But it had. And it kept happening, over the past two days. 

Jesus, he missed Rick. 

She climbed up onto the RV and he frowned at her. 

"What the hell are you doing? It's the middle of the night," he snapped. "You should be asleep." 

She rolled her eyes, walked over to him, and brushed her lips lightly over his. It wasn't a kiss, not really, and Shane sighed as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I mean it, Shane, and don't try to brush me off. I- I wasn't-" 

"Stop it, Slugger," he ordered past the tightness in his chest that hadn't eased for six months already, pulling her to his side. "I missed you. Just let it go, ok? Six months I've been scared for you. Knew I should have just killed his ass."

She leaned against him. "Don't say that, Shane. You don't mean it. At most, you'd have arrested him. Besides, I'm not sure Daryl and Merle didn't already try. I was in the hospital for a couple weeks, after all." 

He tightened his grip on her and the gun in his hand. "Naw, I think I'd probably kill him. Don't remind me. I'm so sorry I stopped-" 

"Seriously, Dickhead? Are you about to apologize to me after what I said to-"

"We gonna go back and forth on this shit all night, or just get back to being friends?" he interrupted her blandly. 

She sighed loudly and huffed out a half-laugh. "Fine. We can be friends." 

"Good. Wanna talk about it?" 

"Nope," she said. "It hurt. It scared me. It's over." 

"Alright." They stood in silence, crickets chirping in the night around them. The air hung thick and heavy, and Shane knew she was going to ask any minute. It was the next question, after all. 

"What happened to Rick, Shane?" she whispered into the night.


	5. Lie #5: "It Wasn't That Bad, Dickhead, Geez" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
domestic violence/abuse  
implied rape/non con as part of domestic abuse

You crawled out of the tent into early morning fog, glad to leave the cacophony inside behind. Goddamn, Merle's snoring had gotten worse since you'd been kids. And Daryl was following in his footsteps, just like with everything else. 

Camp was still and asleep, except for Glenn on watch up on the RV. You waved up at him and he waved back with a smile. The guy was fast on his feet, ever cheerful, and always willing to help. He'd turned an interesting color when you had a conversation with him after you'd been approached by some of the women in camp about feminine hygiene issues a couple weeks after you'd joined them. Somehow you'd been elected to take the issue to Shane, and you'd taken it to Glenn instead, who bless his sweet soul had nodded and agreed to a discreet addition to the next supply run. 

He knew the city like the back of his hand, and when the camp had been arguing over food and fuel and things like toilet paper, he'd volunteered to go in on his own. Shane hadn't liked it at all, but Glenn had convinced him the group couldn't risk more than one person. If Glenn didn't come back, you'd know they'd need another plan. If he did, well- you had what you needed, right? 

Glenn was pale ale or hard cider, but only because he wouldn't actually order the sangria he wanted. 

You strolled the camp, warming up your thankfully almost healed body and getting out some of the stiffness from sleeping on the ground. Shane had offered you a cot, Dale had offered you a place in the RV until you healed, and Carol had quietly offered you a pillow. Hers, you later realized after watching her family, because there's no way she would have dared to offer something that wasn't hers and hers alone. 

Her husband Ed and Merle were the problems in camp. Ed was an abusive fuck who you tried not to admit scared the shit out of you. You saw the way Shane looked at him with open dislike, and Daryl and Merle held muttered conversations just out of your earshot about him. The whole camp seemed to be waiting with bated breath for him to do something they couldn't forgive. 

You knew he wouldn't, at least not where any of the men would see it.

Then there was Merle. You didn't know if he'd gotten worse over the years or if you'd just been immune to him for awhile and were seeing him through fresh eyes now, with other people having to experience him. But if he didn't learn how to watch his fucking mouth, even your people skills weren't going to be enough. 

He'd managed to hit on, insult, and generally repel every woman in camp except you. Scratch that, every woman- he also insulted and generally repelled you, though he didn't hit on you. He acted like king of the fucking castle, the heap big hunter who would provide for everyone, but Daryl was the one who did the actual work. 

Daryl basically wasn't around, since he spent as much time as possible in the trees and not around camp. 

Which left you the one who soothed ruffled feathers and generally tried to make nice and keep as much a lid on Merle as you could. It didn't always work, though, and there'd been a memorable incident that had Shane come running with his shotgun in hand like there was a walker threat when the three of you got into an argument at full volume over- well, over everything. 

You'd been pissed about the latest 'compliment' Merle had decided to pay Jacqui- news flash, it wasn't a compliment, it was a racist and sexist remark, a stupendous double-whammy that had left a shocked look on her face and had you instantly up in Merle's- Merle was yelling back about you always telling him what to do and who the hell even knew what else; he sounded like Will. Daryl had gotten into it about the time Merle was nose to nose with you, trying to defuse the situation at first. Then you'd rounded on him in a show of the temper Malcolm had hated, screaming at him about why he put up with Merle's dipshit behavior and didn't he know he could do better? You all could!

It hadn't been the finest moment for the Dixon siblings, and Shane had broken it up by getting in the middle and sending all three of you to separate corners. It was particularly gutsy for him to shove his way into, considering Merle's very clear and well articulated opinions on 'pig bastards who think they run the show'. 

On the other hand, all of the women had warmed up to you after that. Not that any of them had really been anything other than welcoming before, but you felt the difference. 

Lori was the only hold out, and she kept slightly aloof. She was always nice, but she eyed you sometimes like she wasn't exactly sure what she thought about you. 

You shrugged it off and chalked it up to the friendship you'd slid right back into with Shane. Lori had known Shane for a lot longer than you had. Her kid called him 'Uncle Shane', and Lori and Rick and Shane had been friends in high school. You got the protectiveness that came with something like that, so you let it roll off your back and just did your own thing. 

But goddamn the end of the world was boring. 

The camp was running fairly smoothly, and there just wasn't that much to do. Enough hands were around to handle things, and Shane and your brothers had flat refused to let you join any of the runs into town. 

You'd tried pointing out that you'd done a fair amount of running from police in the city and you were as sneaky as Glenn. You had to be, to avoid getting busted every time you tried to paint. They pointed out that your face was still yellow and green and it hadn't been that long since you were in the hospital. 

You'd been forced to agree or sneak out, and you knew if you took the second option they'd just come after you and haul you back. So you wandered around camp, talked, smiled, did chores, and wished you had a sketchbook or something. 

You were amusing yourself staring at the quarry walls and imagining what you'd paint on them- glorious sheer white rock face was a prime canvas- when Shane pulled up in his Jeep with the backseat full of water. You headed over and started hauling out one of the massive water coolers, and Shane grabbed the other end. 

"You're up early," he grunted as you set that one down and reached for the next. 

"Pot, kettle." You jerked your head toward your tent. "Do you hear that? Could you sleep through it?" 

Shane laughed. "Fair enough." 

"What's the plan for today? And please don't say laundry. I'm bored as hell, Walsh," you complained. 

He chuckled. "No drinks to pour or walls to paint, huh?" 

"I've contemplated the quarry. I figure if the Egyptians could make paint, so can I. I don't have any idea how," you added with a grimace. "But I could figure it out. Maybe I could figure out how to aerosolize it too. You know, after I see one of the flying pigs." 

"Gonna do more zombie cops, Slugger?" he asked, and it was a little bitter around the edges. 

You shot him a sideways look as you grabbed one of the smaller coolers by yourself. "That wasn't you." 

"Looked like me," he muttered. 

"It wasn't." 

He shrugged. "Don't matter." 

You set the water down and faced him, crossing your arms. "Sure feels like it matters." 

"It doesn't," he said, harsher this time. 

You waited, letting the silence grow as you stared him down. After a beat he rolled his eyes and pointed at you. 

"I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd think you know Rick a hell of a lot better than you do. He does that same-" Shane broke off, shoving his hand through his hair and looking away. 

You dropped your arms and stepped over to him, wrapping him in a hug from behind as he turned away and resting your cheek against his shoulder blade. He patted your arm around him after a minute and you stepped away to grab the last cooler. 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

"Why? He's your best friend. You're allowed to be sad, Dickhead."

That got you a smile and a roll of his eyes. "Shut up, Slugger," he muttered, but he paused, shoulders still slumped. "I do miss him." 

"Miss who, Uncle Shane?" Carl's voice came from behind you and Shane jerked. You turned easily, smiling at the kid and Lori as they walked up. 

"Uh- just- a lot of people, kiddo," Shane mumbled, and you saw Lori's hand reach up for the wedding ring she wore around her neck. Shane might fool the kid, but he didn't fool her. "Morning, Lor." 

"Morning, Shane," she said with a smile. "Y/N." 

"Hey," you greeted her casually. It was a little thing, and considering how much you hated your nickname it shouldn't have bothered you at all, but Lori was the only one who called you by your actual name. Somehow, it irritated the shit out of you, despite your insistence since early childhood that your mother had given you a perfectly respectable name, damn it, and it would be nice if literally anyone- teachers included- actually bothered to use it. 

They didn't, except for Lori, and you used one finger to spin your mom's wedding ring around on your right hand.

"What are we planning for today?" Lori asked, stepping closer to Shane. 

"Why the hell am I in charge?" he muttered. "I don't know. Stay alive?" 

You snorted. "Masterful plan." 

"Shut up," he said again, but the sadness was easing from his eyes and a smile started to form on his lips. You crossed your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him, then tuned out a little as Lori and Shane talked. 

God, you were bored. Maybe you'd go out with Daryl today. Of course, that would leave Merle in camp without a babysitter, which didn't feel like a good plan either. 

"So, you in, Ace?" Shane's amused tone registered and you focused back on him. 

"What?"

"I said, you in?" 

You shrugged. "Sure. In for what?" 

"Did you just agree to something without knowing what it is?" Lori asked, her tone somewhere between genuinely amused and condescending.

You shrugged again. "I'm bored and it's Dickhead. Whatever it is, it'll be fun." 

\-- Hey Ace. Whatcha doing today?

You lifted an eyebrow at the message and tapped out a slow response with your pinkie, the only finger not currently covered in paint.

\-- Awww shit. You in town?

A bit later, your phone buzzed and you finished line you were working on, absently shaking the can to see how much you had left. Almost out, but you could finish. If your phone would stop going off, that is. You checked it, bending over where it lay on the top of your bag at your feet. 

\-- Might be. Drink?

You thought for a minute and grinned, then grabbed your phone, snapped a pic of the building next to you, and sent it to him. 

\-- Hide and seek, Dickhead. You find me, I'm all yours.

It only took a couple of seconds for his answer.

\-- Shit. I'm a cop, Slugger. It's on.

You laughed and went back to work, needing to finish up before someone caught you who wasn't quite as friendly as Shane. 

You finished the piece in record time, and since Shane hadn't showed yet, you snuck along your in-case-of-emergency exit route to get to your car. You stashed your gear back in the truck and pulled the hat off your head, tossing it in and slamming the hood. Then you considered what to do next, in yours and the deputy's game. 

You weren't supposed to change hiding places in hide and seek, you considered, but what was the fun in sticking to the rules? You jumped behind the wheel and texted him again.

\-- Snooze you lose! I'll send you my next location when I get to it. 

Your phone chimed almost instantly, two messages right after each other. 

\-- Damn it, I'm here!

\-- Shit, Slugger, this is amazing.

You smiled, changing your mind because if he was there, you wanted to see his face. You hopped right back out again, telling him to stay put, and shoved your phone into your back pocket. 

You went back up the fire escape, across the roof and down again, then two lefts and you stopped in the shadows to watch him for a minute. He looked good today, you thought. Last time you'd seen him, at the bar on a Friday night, he'd looked tired. He said he'd pulled extra shifts that week, Rick's sink had needed to be fixed and then the basement flooded and he'd been helping them out with that, and he'd had a rough shift. He never explained what he meant when he said a 'rough shift' and you had the feeling you didn't want to know. You'd squeezed his hand before being called away for flaming shots, and he'd held on like your hand was a life jacket and he was in a hurricane.

But he looked better today. He stood in a patch of sunlight like he'd picked it out. If it was Mal, you knew he would have, no question- always searching for the spotlight. Shane had just found the best spot to see the whole piece you'd done. 

He was staring at it the way he stared at everything you showed him- concentrating, taking it all in slowly and carefully. He said art wasn't his thing, but he'd sure stared all of yours in your place the first time he'd been in there. 

Last call making a liar out of him again, you supposed. 

Shane stared at anything you showed him like that, whether it was one of yours or someone else's. You'd seen him studying other artists' work on the street with that same expression when you were hanging out together, or when you showed him something that inspired you. It was why when he said something was good, you believed him. He actually took the time to look, and he wasn't afraid to tell you when it didn't work. 

Like when you'd told him you wanted to experiment with abstract and you'd shown him what you'd come up with. He'd studied it, looked confused, and studied it some more. You'd finally snapped a 'what?' at him and he shook his head slowly. 

"Look, Slugger, I ain't exactly an art critic, ok? And I think you're amazing, I really do. It's just... they're missing something. I don't know what," he'd said, shoving his hand through his hair. 

You'd made a few more attempts before you realized what they were missing was soul. They didn't mean anything to you, and that came across to the person looking at them. Art wasn't made in a vacuum; art was living, breathing emotion, and you'd just been tossing paint at a canvas- or spraying it, whatever- and thinking 'does this work?'. It didn't, and he'd known it and called you on it. 

So when Shane got that look, the one he had now, you knew you'd done something right. You snapped a picture of him with your phone- for reference when you got home to sketch, because it was a good moment and you liked the way the sun was hitting his eyes and his hair, and the loose, relaxed way he was standing, thumbs hooked into his back pockets and head tilted to one side. Then you sent it to him. 

\-- I win.

His phone chiming broke the stillness, and he pulled it out of his pocket and laughed. "Then where the hell are you?" 

"Boo," you said mildly, stepping out of the shadows. "Hey, Dickhead. Whatcha think?" 

He rolled his eyes at you and looked back up at the piece. "It's incredible. Seriously." 

You stepped to his side and considered it with him. It was a tenement building, not too far from where you'd grown up, and it was run down as hell. You'd been keeping an eye on news reports about the mayor contracting out to knock these apartment buildings down and turn this area into another development center or mall or some shit. It pissed you off, because these people were the working poor. They were the backbone of the city, and if buildings like these were demolished all around, there wouldn't be anywhere left they could afford to go. Atlanta didn't need more 'development'; it needed public works to take care of its fucking people. 

You'd been wandering around down here a few weeks ago, and this particular building caught your eye. The shape of it, the cracks and breaks in all the right places, and the location- it was one of those moments of kismet you lived for. Political pieces weren't really your jam, but this issue hit close to home for you- literally, physically close to home.

You'd turned the building's foundation into the body of a woman, lying on her back and sewn up like a rag doll around the cracks in the foundation. She had a cleaning woman's uniform on and was holding up the building with her hands. There'd been a fissure that sloped perfectly to make it look like the building was slowly crushing her, and she was struggling to hold it away from her upper body and face. The whole thing was done in black, using the building's weathered white to form the picture with negative space. 

This wasn't a legal wall, and you'd been downright exposed while working on it. Since this was the mayor's baby, and a big part of his re-election shit, if you got busted you were going down hard. Not that you'd mentioned that to Shane, and you probably should, shouldn't you? Oh well.

"It's alright," you said with a shrug. "I've been thinking something's missing, though. Don't know what." 

Shane studied it some more. "Remember that ad they've been running for his campaign, that tag line about how he's 'for the working class'?" 

You eyed him. "Yeah?" 

"Got red, white, and blue where ever you've stashed your bag?" he asked. "She needs an 'I voted for' sticker." 

You blinked at him and felt yourself smiling. "That's good. Stay here." 

He was holding cans for you and talking about some shit he and Rick had dealt with the night before when the siren went off on the street. You closed your eyes and winced. "Uh, Shane?" 

He sighed. "This is illegal, isn't it?" 

"Yep."

"Those look like shit together," you informed Shane, staring critically at the objects he was stringing between trees at knee height. 

He didn't bother to turn around. "This ain't art class. Doesn't matter how it looks, it only matters if it makes noise." 

"You have no soul sometimes, Shane," you complained. "If Warhol could make Brillo boxes and soup cans into art, why can't we do walker traps? I mean, shit. Look at mine." 

He snorted, tied off the last of his trash and tested to make sure it'd clatter. "I'm sure it'll rock the pants off Atlanta's art scene, sweetheart. But does it work?" 

You sighed dramatically and wiggled the line, and your 'living instillation' clanked and clattered even more loudly than Shane's had. He glared at it and then at you, and turned back to frown at his. 

You wandered over to him and leaned your chin on his shoulder. "Form doesn't cancel function, Walsh," you said, and kissed his cheek. "It's fine. Come on, we need to get back and check in. Make sure no one's killed Merle yet." 

"Not worried about Merle killing anyone?" Shane asked dryly, and you heard the distaste in his voice. 

You shrugged. "Not really. He's worked his way through most of the good shit he brought from Atlanta, so he's rationing it now. That calms him down some, but he's still an asshole." 

"He is at that," Shane agreed. 

You snorted. "Told you there was a reason I didn't introduce you to them. Daryl's not half-bad, and he's even better when he's away from Merle." 

"Yeah, Daryl's alright. Keeping us fed, that's for sure." 

You heard the gratitude in his tone and glanced over at him. He looked stressed and harassed, but no more than usual. "You're doing a great job," you told him quietly. "I mean, look at all of them." 

You stopped a little outside of camp, where you'd be out of anyone's earshot, and gestured. The small group had grown as others trickled in, and while it wouldn't have populated your entire apartment building back home if you split up the families and stuck one person in each apartment, it wasn't insignificant either. And Shane had gathered them all up, organized them, kept a lot of them alive, and kept everyone living and working in harmony. 

You meant it. He was doing an amazing job. 

He shook his head. "I don't have the first clue what I'm doing. We're just scraping by, Slugger. See an issue, fix it. No planning. No provision for the future." 

"Shane, come on. How the hell could you? The human race just experienced its extinction event about two months ago, and you've got a group of us surviving up here. That's not small potatoes, my friend. The rest will come as we get our legs under us. Trust yourself. I trust you," you added with a smile his way. 

He gave you a look and hooked his arm around your neck to kiss your forehead. "Thanks. I mean it. Come on, I think I can find a pen in my gear bag. You can sit around and draw all over your jeans or my arm if you want." 

You laughed, thinking he was joking, but he stopped by his Jeep and dug around in his Sheriff's bag. You leaned on the hood, closing your eyes and enjoying the sounds of camp that didn't involve your older brother's asshole voice. 

"Ha! Knew it," Shane declared and you opened your eyes to find him waving a Sharpie under your nose. 

You snorted. "I draw on you with that, it's not coming off for awhile," you told him, but you took it from him all the same. 

"Yeah, I know. How long did it take my number to come off your hand back in the day? Swear I remember seeing it like two weeks later." He had turned back to zip up his bag, and you were spinning the marker around in one hand and contemplating what to draw all over, so you answered without thinking. 

"Almost as long as it took the damn bruises to fade," you said with a roll of your eyes. 

Shane went stiff, turning to you with tight shoulders and a guarded expression. "What?" 

You frowned. "What?" you repeated.

"What bruises?" he asked, voice low and pissed. 

You sighed and shoved a hand through your hair, holding it back out of your face. "It wasn't that bad, Dickhead, geez. Mal wasn't thrilled to see another guy's number written on me, that's all." 

"What'd he do?"

"Shane-" you started, shoving off from the Jeep to walk away, but Shane rested his fingers against your arm. 

He didn't grab you or try to stop you, just set his hand lightly on your forearm and said your name. Your actual name, not Ace, not Slugger, not sweetheart. You looked at him, and he was staring out beyond you at the quarry, jaw tight. 

"Damn it, Shane. Don't do that. I don't need to be rescued, ok?" you muttered. "Besides, he just- he needed me to prove I was his, so I did. He got a little enthusiastic, that's all. No big deal, really." 

Shane swore viciously and dropped his hand from your arm. "That don't sound like no big deal." 

You shrugged. "Well, it wasn't. Just let it go, Shane. He's probably dead in Atlanta somewhere anyway, and you can't kill him twice." 

"That ain't true these days," Shane muttered. He sounded odd, but he dropped it like you'd asked.


	6. Lie #6: "This Is The Last Time We Do This, Ok?" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of domestic abuse/violence  
mild smut

Shane was thinking about the implications of that shit when she wandered off, spinning the marker in her hand with her eyes narrowed and studying the camp. Shane figured there'd be someone out there with an Ace original on their clothes or their tent by the end of the day. 

He made a note to have Glenn keep an eye out for a sketchbook and some of that charcoal stuff she got everywhere when he made his next run into Atlanta. It wasn't a priority, but they needed to start living, right? They couldn't just keep going from crisis to crisis forever. 

He missed the hell out of Rick. Rick would have known how to not just help these people survive, but how to fix the damn world in the process. Rick Grimes could do anything, for as long as Shane had known him. 

He still remembered the time Rick got up, gave a speech, and convinced the PTA board that their middle school needed vending machines with candy and soda in order for students to learn better. If that wasn't proof the man could do whatever he set his mind to, Shane didn't know what was. 

Or when Rick's scrawny ass had managed to get on the football team with Shane, despite having no muscle mass or actual skill at the game to speak of. Hell, he'd only tried out on a dare. 

From Shane. 

Shane shook his head and pushed the grief away when he heard Ace's laugh. He turned and saw her spreading a sheet on the ground, Carl and the Morales kids helping her weigh the edges down with rocks. She crouched, doing that thing where she sketched in the air and measured distances, then nodded and started pulling her boots off. 

He got pissed all over again, watching her crawl into the middle of the sheet, uncap the Sharpie with her teeth, and lean on her forearms. Her hair had faded from campfire-flame-bright over the past couple of months as the color dulled, but it still caught the light and bounced red and orange shadows off the white fabric. 

He'd gotten her hurt. He'd barely even met her, and he'd gotten her hurt. How many times? Shane wondered. How many times had his actions-

He'd known she was back with that asshole again; it was one of the first things they'd talked about. He'd brought her flowers and written a song for her, apologized and swore he was done with the girl she'd caught him with. Shane had been dubious, but she'd seemed happy and shit. They'd already decided they were going to be friends. They'd talked all during her shift, whenever she could spare a few minutes, and she'd laughed when he'd pulled out the Sharpie and started writing, asking if he was going to draw her a new tattoo. 

"Naw," he'd said. "Just figured you should know how to get in touch with me, if you wanted. We could find out what a conversation's like when it's not interrupted seventeen times by someone wanting another round." 

She'd smiled and looked pleased, turning her arm to criticize his penmanship when he was done. His phone buzzed while he was on the highway, and when he got home he looked at it before he even got out of the Jeep. 

\--Hey Dickhead. This shit won't scrub off. Guess you gave me a new tattoo anyway.

He'd snorted, smiled, and replied with one hand while he unlocked his door with the other.

\-- You can get your revenge when we hang out next. Don't save me in your phone as Dickhead.

He'd crawled into bed, not expecting a response since it was four am. She'd have been home for at least an hour, so she was probably asleep. His phone vibrated against the night stand and he grabbed it, surprised. 

\-- Too late. Careful what you wish for with an Ace original. Might end up with a stylized dick on your arm.

\-- Shit. You're Slugger for good now, I hope you know. I'm willing to risk it. Might even make it permanent; I've been wanting a tattoo anyway. Not of a dick, mind, stylized or otherwise. Can't be on the arm- work. Maybe the chest.

\-- Any excuse to take your shirt off, right? But sure. You want a tat design worked up, I can roll.

Shane'd laughed and they'd texted a little more before Shane had fallen asleep with his phone in his hand. 

Now he rubbed the heel of his hand against the tattoo on his chest and wondered just how many times she'd 'proven she was his' for that asshole. Shane could very well kill him twice, what with the end of the world, and he was thinking about doing just that.

Basic needs of the camp kept him from storming Atlanta in search of one dead prick in particular, and he stayed busy most of the day. Every time he passed through, someone was standing over Ace's shoulder, mesmerized as she worked her magic with a white sheet and single black Sharpie. 

Shane hadn't gotten a good look at it yet, but he didn't need to see it to know it would be amazing. 

When he actually finished one task without having someone else come up with another problem that needed his immediate attention, he wandered back toward the middle of camp to see if she was finished yet. 

She was crouched at the corner, trying to scrape the last bit of ink out of the Sharpie to finish her tag. Shane stood with the rest of the group and stared as she groaned and sat back. 

"Oh Jesus," she muttered, kneading at her lower back. "I'm not eighteen anymore, guys." 

Shane snorted and reached down a hand to pull her up. When she was on her feet, he started rubbing her shoulders, finding them in knots. She dropped her head with another groan. 

"Thanks. What do you think?" she asked, gesturing. "I get everyone right?" 

People started talking all over each other, telling her how good it was. She'd drawn all of them. Just faces, for the most part- there were a lot of people here, after all- and in the center she'd sketched Shane, as a damn superhero complete with cape. 

"You're ridiculous with this shit," he muttered, scanning it to find her. As usual, she'd left herself out. He didn't think he'd ever seen her do a self-portrait.

She flashed him a smirk over her shoulder. "It was Carl's idea." 

Carl and Lori walked up at that moment, and Carol called them over to see. Carl's face light up and he came running as Shane dropped his hands from Ace's neck. Ace tossed her arm around Carl's shoulders as the kid stared down at it. 

"How'd I do, little man?" she asked, and Carl beamed up at her and then at Shane. 

"Uncle Shane! She made you Super Shane!" 

"Yeah, she did," Shane mumbled. "Don't know why, though." 

Lori laughed lightly beside him. "Because you saved all of us. This is amazing, YN. You have serious talent." 

Ace looked pleased and turned to talk to an excited Carl and Sophia, the Morales' kids dancing around for her attention as well. As conversation ebbed and flowed around them, Lori leaned over and whispered in Shane's ear. 

"Can you get away for awhile, Super Shane?" 

Shane glanced at her and she winked, gesturing toward the woods. He nodded and she wandered over to ask Carol and Dale to keep an eye on Carl. 

Five minutes later he was walking through the trees looking for Lori. She'd slipped out first, taking a bucket and claiming she was going to look for berries or mushrooms or whatever. Shane waited, then just walked away. No one cared where he went, and he was in and out all the time anyway. 

As it had for the past month, the secrecy only served to reinforce the guilty thought that he shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't be doing this. 

But his feet kept going, and when she stuck her head out from behind a tree he was smiling and reaching for her. 

"Hey," she whispered. "Super Shane, huh?" 

He shrugged. "Carl's idea, apparently." 

Lori was already working the buttons on his shirt. "It suits you. She did an amazing job with the portraits, too." 

"Yeah, Slugger's incredible," he agreed, his hands tangling in Lori's dark hair. He tugged lightly until she tilted her head up to look in his eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this." 

Lori's hands didn't stop, gliding up his chest to his shoulders and sliding his shirt off his arms slowly. "You want me stop?" she asked. 

He shivered as she trailed her fingers back down his chest and caught her wrist before she went further south. For a heartbeat, he almost said yes.

"No," he admitted, and kissed her hard. "But this is the last time we do this, ok?" 

Lori shrugged, broke his hold on her wrist, and undid his belt as he reached for her shirt. "Ok. Kiss me, Shane." 

He did. 

It didn't take long. Neither of them were looking for anything more than an escape, a quick fix, a little relief from the grief and the stress. That's what Shane thought, at least, and he lay on his back and looked at clouds drifting over the sky and light through trees when they were done. 

Lori was already pulling the necklace she kept Rick's wedding ring on back over her head and reaching for her pants. 

Shane sighed and started getting dressed as well. "Lor." 

"What, Shane?" she asked, and Shane's teeth ground together at the tone of her voice.

"We going to talk about this thing we've got going on between us?" he asked finally, shoving his arms back through his sleeves. "Or are we just going to keep hiding in the bushes forever?" 

She glanced at him. "We can't tell anyone. There's Carl. I'm his mom, and his dad- How do you think he would feel?" 

"If you don't think he'd like it, maybe we shouldn't be doing it," Shane said wearily, running a hand through his hair. "Lori, this don't feel right." 

"We can stop if you want." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I think- I think we should," he said slowly, looking down at his hands. "It's not that I don't- Lori, I love you. You know that." 

"I know," she whispered. "It's Rick, isn't it?" 

"Yes, it's Rick!" Shane exploded, too loud. He quieted his voice and shook his head, staring at the ground. "Man is- was- my best friend. You're his wife." 

"I'm his widow," she said, and if Shane hadn't known Lori since high school, hadn't known her with every fiber of his being, he'd have called that cold. It wasn't; it was full of the pain she'd been putting behind a brick wall since he'd shown up outside of Carl's school and hit his siren. 

He reached out and pulled her into his arms and she curled against him. He closed his eyes and tangled his fingers in her hair, but she pushed away from him and cleared her throat, swiping a hand across her mouth and under her eyes. 

"Come on, we should get back. I need to check on Carl," she said quietly. 

Shane reached for her hand as she turned to walk away, but she wrapped her arms around her stomach and walked with her head down. 

Shane stood alone in the trees, shoved a hand through his hair again, and thought about punching a tree. Instead he let out a hard breath, scooped up his gun from where he'd set it carefully out of the way, and started back to camp as well. 

He felt like a complete bastard, and he didn't really know why. 

By the time he got back to the camp he'd worked himself into a shit mood. Shane had always been good at it; good at brooding his way to a fuck-the-world attitude that lashed out at anyone who crossed him wrong. Between Lori and Ace and Rick, Shane didn't know that he'd ever felt more like a failure. Everyone he cared about except Carl, he thought grimly. Rick was dead and Ace had been living in hell because Shane had been a shit cop and a shit friend. Now Lori was pissed or hurting or both, and they had whatever they had going on and he was angry and guilty and sad.

In the past, he'd go to the gym and punch a heavy bag for awhile or go to the range and unload magazine after magazine into a flimsy paper target. He'd take a long shower, have a beer, maybe rub one out to relieve some stress. He had methods to deal with it when he got this pissed.

None of them were available due to the end of the fucking world, and the first thing he saw when he got back was a distinct absence of anyone on goddamn watch. The RV was empty, Shane's mind was full of black rage, and he opened his mouth to start blasting whoever should have been up there- 

"Hey, Dickhead," Ace said, falling into step with him. "Maybe think for two seconds before you say whatever's about to come out." 

He whirled on her with a glare. "What the hell you talkin' about?" 

She gave him a blatantly unconcerned look. "You could start the campfire from here with that glare. Relax. Glenn's on watch, he's just in the john for two seconds- see, he's back. I don't know what crawled up your ass out there in the woods, but maybe see if it crawls back out again before you incinerate someone." 

She strolled away before he could think of a response to that and Shane headed for his own tent before anyone else decided to speak to him. 

He lay on his back on the ground, that one damn rock that never went away digging into his back. He'd tried everything. No matter where in the tent he shifted his sleeping bag, the rock was there. 

Shane slammed his fist into the ground and tried to get control of his temper. 

Lori'd come to him. He hadn't started this. He hadn't. He didn't need to feel guilty about it. He wasn't betraying Rick. 

Lori had come to him. 

He was in his tent, pretending to sleep and thinking about helicopters bombing Atlanta and what the fuck they were going to do when winter set in. It might have been summer and hot as hell, but it wouldn't always be. Hopefully the government would get control of the situation by then, but they'd bombed Atlanta. Shane was too damn practical-minded to hold out much hope there. 

Rick was the idealist in their duo. Shane was always the bad cop. 

He heard a light footstep outside his tent and sat up on his elbow, reaching for his gun. Whoever it was hesitated outside before slowly unzipping the tent flap. 

"Lor?" Shane whispered, and she shook her head and set her finger to her lips, then beckoned him to come out. 

He was thinking disaster as he tugged on his boots without bothering to lace them. Walkers swarming the road. More fire raining from the sky. Death, destruction, mayhem. 

He wasn't expecting her to grab his hand and lead him over to the trees where they were out of earshot of the tents, making sure Dale didn't see them go from the RV. In the trees, she stopped and gave him a long, assessing look. 

She stepped into him, wrapped a arm around his neck, and kissed him. Shane pulled away to give her a confused look, because while they'd been doing this whole kissing thing for awhile now, something felt different. 

"Lori, what-" he started, and she pulled him even further into the trees. 

"Don't talk," she whispered finally. "Just kiss me. Please." 

She pressed her lips to his again and her body melded to his front, and Shane knew it was a bad idea. Didn't stop either of them. 

They both cried, and Shane didn't go back to camp afterward. He leaned against the trees and stared at the darkness until it faded to grey and the sun came up.


	7. Lie #7: "I'm Not Going Anywhere" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of domestic violence/abuse  
mentions of past child abuse

You sketched, tuning out the argument brewing among the group. You weren't listening, though you kept one eye on them as you drew. Merle was being an asshole, but for once Daryl was actually in camp and you had promptly resigned as your older brother's babysitter. 

"Shit. Thanks a lot," Daryl had muttered as you wandered away from the discussion. You'd flipped him off and kept going, and he huffed out a laugh. 

The two of you had actually been getting along well over the last week or so. It was nice- almost like after Merle had left and it'd been you and Daryl against the fucking world. Or against fucking Will, at least. Since he was currently riding herd on Merle's bullshit mouth, you curled contentedly in a chair nearby and drew the group of them. 

Merle with his asshole smirk and his puffed-out chest; Daryl with his arms crossed and that vaguely uncomfortable look he got whenever he had to interact with people and they actually listened to him; Shane with his hands on his hips and his head ducked slightly so he glared out and up at people. Just outside the triangle they made stood Glenn, shoulders hunched and with a resigned, world-weary expression. Andrea had one hip cocked and her arms crossed, defensive and annoyed looking, and Lori looked pissed as hell hovering just behind Shane's shoulder. 

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. "I mean, we need the supplies, but this don't feel like a good idea." 

"It's not. It's too big a risk," Lori agreed. "I mean, what if something happens? Five people?" 

"Six," Merle said bluntly. "I got shit I need in Atlanta. I'm goin'." 

You sighed, closed your sketchbook, and walked over to them. "There isn't a damn thing you need in the city, Merle. For what it's worth, I think sending Glenn help is a good idea. We need more than one person who can get in and out of there, and it's not right that Glenn risks his life for everyone all the time." 

Glenn mumbled something about not minding and he was better alone anyway, but Shane was nodding. 

"No. No, that- Slugger's right. We've all depended on you, Glenn, and you always come through. But you shouldn't have to. Alright. I'll go, and we'll take one other. Not you, Merle." 

"The hell not-" Merle started blustering, but you cut him off. 

"I'm going. Shane, you can't," you told him bluntly. 

Everyone started frowning at you. You sighed and held up a hand when four voices- Shane's, Merle's, Daryl's, and Lori's- started all at once. 

You pointed at Shane. "Dickhead, you're in charge out here. This place falls apart without you. We need you here, not running around Atlanta." 

Shane looked pissed, adjusting his hat while his jaw tightened, but finally he nodded once. You moved on before he could object to you going, which you knew was coming next. 

"Merle, all you want is to find a stash of your shit, and that's the last thing you need. Shut up and don't argue. Contribute to the conversation or go sit in the corner. I'm going because like Glenn, I know my way around. I didn't argue last time when you all said I was still beat up; you weren't wrong. I'm not now. So, I'm going," you said firmly. Your logic was impeccable and you knew it. 

They disagreed. Loudly. 

Finally Merle got up in your face and said you were a dumb bitch if you thought you could handle it back there; after all, you couldn't handle one asshole by yourself, could you? Both Daryl and Shane turned from arguing with each other to yelling at him, and you tossed your hands in the air and took a literal step back. You covered the actual hurt from that lovely little reminder with annoyance and skills you'd learned in childhood.

"Fine! Damn it, fine! I won't go. But Merle, you shouldn't either," you snapped, and walked out of the conversation again. 

Glenn came over to where you were curled back up with your sketchbook, mapping out what you'd paint on that quarry wall right now if you had spray paint, or better yet, your airbrush kit from home. 

The way you were feeling, it was probably better you didn't. 

Glenn had that scrunched-up face he got when he was thinking something over extremely hard and Shane's map of Atlanta in his hand. God bless the deputy, you thought dryly when you saw it. His emergency preparedness had been on point. 

"What's up, Glenn?" you asked when he hesitated, hovering near you. "They still arguing?" 

"Yeah," he muttered. "Merle's insisting on going. Andrea, T Dog, Morales. Jaqui worked for the city planning commission, so she's going." 

You made a face and looked up at him. "Sorry if you get stuck with Merle. He's an asshole, but I swear he's not a bad person. If he lays off the drugs he's almost pleasant." 

Glenn chuckled a little. "I find that hard to believe. Uh, sorry," he added, shooting you a guilty look.

"Don't be. He's my brother and I find it difficult to believe," you told him, waving him off with a gesture. "You've got a look, Glenn. What's on your mind." 

"I wish you were going. I'm good at getting around the city, but I delivered pizzas. I know bike and car routes. I was thinking, it'd be easier to stay off the streets as much as possible, right? There's fire escapes, rooftops. There can't be a lot of geeks on those, I wouldn't think. And you'd probably know more of them than I would..." he trailed off, tapping the map with nervous fingers and looking at you like he hoped you weren't offended. 

You flashed him a slow smile. "I hope you told the macho brigade over there that, because that is exactly my reasoning." 

Glenn shrugged. "I did. They ignored me. They do that a lot." 

"Yeah, they do. So, where are you headed?" you asked, and he dropped to a crouch and spread the map out. 

"Here. There's this department store, see, and then the grocery store on the corner, and-" 

"- and the places nearby," you agreed. "Good choice. Ok. Here's what I would do." 

You closed your sketchbook and started marking things on the map, dots and x's and notes on places where the roof of one building connected to another. He nodded and pointed to an area you didn't know super well, where he'd been slipping in, and you gave him a few options for getting in, out, and around the few blocks of town he'd mapped out. When he felt confident, he folded up the map and looked up at you with a grimace. 

"Still wish you were going. You're quick on your feet and sneaky. It'd be easier with just us. Maybe one other person." 

You snorted. "Yeah, convince my brothers of that. Or our fearless leader over there." 

"Hey, you're the one who made him Super Shane," Glenn said with a shrug and you laughed. 

"That's fair. So, while you're in there...." 

He looked at you expectantly. 

"Can you keep an eye out for some things for me?" 

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "We've got a list. What do you want?"

You ripped a page out of the back of your sketchbook and held it out to him and this time he was the one who laughed. 

"Well, that was easy," he said, and scanned it. "These all art supplies?" 

"Most of them. The bottom few are bartender supplies. Neither are a priority, mind. It'd just be nice," you said with a vague gesture. "There's only so much to do around here." 

"Amen to that," he muttered. 

"Yo, Glenn!" Shane called, and Glenn rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like a prayer for patience as he turned, stuffing your list of requests into his back pocket. 

"Yeah?" he called, and you shook your head at the pissed-off faces waiting for him. Poor kid. He didn't deserve getting caught in the middle of those guys.

Eventually the knot of them broke up, everyone scattering. Daryl and Merle went to the tent, still arguing with each other, and you closed your eyes with a sigh. 

You really did love those bastards, but dear Christ they made it hard sometimes. Shared trauma would only get you so far.

"You ok, Slugger?" Shane asked. 

You opened one eye and looked at him. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" 

He adjusted his hat and dropped down to a crouch much like Glenn had. "I saw your face when that asshole said what he did to you. You cover well, always have, but I caught that one." 

You made a face and waved that away. "It's no big deal. He's a dick sometimes, but he means well. He's just looking out for me." 

"You know, you excuse other people's poor behavior toward you a lot. Just somethin' to think about," he said dryly. 

You blinked at him, not saying anything to that. Honestly, what was there to say? It was just Merle. 

"Anyway," Shane continued when you didn't speak. "Merle won't take no for an answer. Glenn's taking him, T Dog, Andrea, Jaqui, and Morales. Daryl's going out on a hunt, probably overnight."

You sighed. "Love how they tell me these decisions. What are you doing?" 

"Well, it looks like I'm stayin' here," he said. "Wanna get into some trouble?" 

You eyed him. "Damn, Dickhead, am I rubbing off on you or something?"

"Maybe. You up for it?"

"Hell yeah."

Shane's idea of getting into trouble left a lot to be desired, but you figured wandering around with him in search of firewood and mushrooms and shit might be fun. After all, there wasn't anything else for you to do. Daryl pulled you aside before you left camp and told you he was going out. 

"Gettin' harder to find shit nearby, so I'm gonna be gone overnight," he said. "Ya gonna be ok to deal with Merle?" 

You snorted and waved him off. "I've been dealing with Merle just as long as you have, you know." 

He nodded. "I know. He shouldn't have said what he did. I yelled at him. Ya can take care of yourself, Ace, always have. He shouldn't have thrown Malcolm in your face like that." 

You swallowed and looked away from him, nodding as you wrapped your arms around your stomach. Daryl pulled you into a hug and you leaned against his shoulder, reminded once again that you and him used to be close, when you were teenagers. You used to be friends as well as siblings, and you'd missed him. 

"You know, you're not half bad when you aren't hanging around Merle," you muttered. 

He scoffed. "Don't start that shit again, sis. He's our brother." 

"That doesn't mean you owe him shit, Daryl," you insisted, and he let go of you to stalk away and snatch up his bow. 

"Means I owe him somethin'. Will'd have killed us both after Mom died, if it hadn't been for Merle, and you know it," he snapped. "Means somethin'." 

"Yes, it does. And the years of bailing his ass out should be enough," you said wearily. "Look, I don't want to fight about the same thing all over again. Be careful out there, ok? I might miss you if you weren't around," you said with a faint smile. 

He snorted and tossed his head, but his eyes danced as he swung his bow over his shoulder and adjusted his knife on his belt. "Yeah, whatever. You be careful too, aight? Might miss ya too. A little." 

"Just a little," you agreed, stepping to his side and kissing his cheek. "Don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere. I'll just run around with Dickhead and enjoy not having to put out any of Merle's fires." 

"Ya do that. Shit, he's our brother, but he's so much fuckin' work," Daryl muttered. 

You laughed. "Amen, brother." 

"Damn it, Ace, whatcha doin' to me?" Merle grumbled. You sighed and smacked him on the back of the head. 

"Don't move, asshole. I'm trying to close up the latest hole in your skin," you muttered. 

"Daryl's better at it." 

"Well, sucks for you he's not here, don't it?" you shot back. 

Merle laughed and you bit your lip in concentration. He hissed as you set the last stitch and tied it off before sitting back with a sigh. 

"There. It's not pretty, but that don't really matter with your ugly mug, does it?" you muttered, and gathered all the trash to dump in the can in the corner of your room. 

Merle flipped you off and you flipped him off back. "Thanks, little sister. Where the hell is Darylina anyway?" 

You shrugged. "We're sixteen; he's probably hanging out with his latest tramp." 

"Don't hold back none now, Ace," Merle said with a laugh. "Thought that twin thing would let ya know where he was all the damn time."

"We're twins, not psychic. What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have your own place now?" You plopped down on your tiny bed and grabbed for your sketchbook, where you'd been working on your tag design. You hated everything so far, but if you wanted to get some recognition for your work, you had to be identifiable, right? So you needed a tag. Every decent street artist had a tag. 

It didn't matter that Malcolm had said you weren't going to amount to shit as an artist, street or otherwise; you were going to prove him and everyone else wrong and get out of this damn hellhole.

"What, I cain't come check on my baby siblings?" Merle said, stretching out on his stomach on Daryl's bed. "I practically raised you two young'ins after all." 

You flipped him off with a snort. "You didn't raise anyone. You were in juvie half the time and on the street doing something to get back into juvie the other half." 

"Well shit, girl. You got awful strong opinions for such a scrawny bitch." 

You glared at him. "Don't threaten me, dick. Will does that enough." 

Merle's eyes popped open and he actually looked contrite for a minute. "Whatever, baby sister. Whatcha workin' on there?" 

Since it was his version of an apology, you sighed and turned the sketchbook around. "I need a tag. Trying to figure it out." 

"Gonna go the way of ol' Merle if ya ain't careful," Merle said seriously, but he was squinting at the designs you were working on. "Come on, Ace. Ya already know what ya should use." 

"I don't want my nickname to be my tag, Merle," you said impatiently. "I don't even like being called Ace!"

Merle shrugged lazily. "Suit yourself. I'm gonna take me a little nap until Darylina gets home, aight sugar?" 

"Whatever, jerkface. I'm going out," you decided, climbing to your feet. "Don't get blood and shit on Daryl's bed, he'll bitch me out about it." 

You were teasing Shane about his ax technique and criticizing him for not taking better care of his tattoo you'd designed for him. "I mean, really, Dickhead. Lotion is a thing, and I know you had some somewhere. You're a guy, after all." 

"What the hell's that supposed to mean? And it's fine. See, you can still read it and all," he protested, sounding a little strained as he split the first piece of wood in two with one swing. 

"Impressive," you mumbled. He winked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes. "And you know what the hell that means, don't try to deny it. Sure, you can read it. But it looks fifteen years old, good lord! You see mine looking that faded? Nope. If you gave the damn thing some care every now and then, it'd look a hell of a lot better." 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he grumbled. He swiped a hand across his forehead before splitting the next log. 

"Tattoo's not the only thing that needs hydrating, you know," you added, turning to head back to camp. "I'm getting you some water." 

"You tending bar or something, Slugger?" he asked, sounding amused. "I think I'd rather have a 'Lonely Island in the Middle of-'." 

"Oh, shut up!" you yelled over your shoulder, grinning even as you flipped him off. He grinned back and you rolled your eyes. 

You froze two steps from the water cooler when the CB crackled. 

"Hello. Hello. Can anybody hear my voice?" 

You dove for the radio, hitting your knees as you grabbed the mic. "Hello?" 

"Can anyone hear my voice?" 

"Yeah, we can hear you. You're coming through. Over," you responded, scanning the dials and wishing you had a better idea of how these fucking things worked.   
People were gathering around now and you looked up helplessly at Dale. The thing was clearly a police unit, and you pointed at Carl and down the path. "Shane's down there, Carl, can you-"

"Go, baby," Lori agreed, giving Carl a slight push as he nodded. 

"If anybody reads, please respond. Broadcasting on emergency channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on highway 85. If anybody reads, please respond." 

"Oh fuck," you muttered, and clicked the button to try to reach the voice again. "We're outside the city, but 85's not- damn it! How do you work this thing?" 

"Here, move, Slugger," Shane said, slamming the ax into the stump the CB rested on. 

You handed it over willingly, shifting just out of his way and gripping his shoulder with one hand. 

"Hello, hello, is the person who called still on the air?" he asked after fiddling with the controls. Static answered him, and you couldn't help but be amused by the way he'd slipped into professional voice. "This is Officer Shane Walsh broadcasting to person unknown. Please respond." 

Static continued and Shane's hand tightened around the handset and his shoulders slumped. "He's gone," he muttered, and flung the handset down. 

He rose, holding a hand out to you absently, and pulled you to your feet. 

"There are others. It's not just us," Lori said into the concerned silence.

Shane nodded. "Yeah, we knew there would be. That's why we left the CB on."

"Lot of good it's been doing," Lori said, and your eyes narrowed as Shane looked away and his jaw tightened. 

Lori had a hand on her hip and while there wasn't anything specific about her tone that said it, you just knew she was pissed. 

"I've been saying for a week we need to put signs up on 85 to warn people away from the city," she added. 

You looked back at Shane, eyebrows raised, because that was news to you. You'd been looking for shit to do for days, and you could have handled that for them. Shane glanced at you and then away, back to Lori, as he shook his head. 

"We haven't had time," he said, reaching for the ax. 

"Well, I think we need to make time," Lori insisted. 

You looked at the others and saw the same slightly confused expressions. Amy in particular looked worried, and you gave her a reassuring smile. Shane and Lori were definitely arguing, and you didn't think it was entirely about signs on 85. You didn't know what it was about, however, and you couldn't wait to find out. 

"That's- that's a luxury we cain't afford," Shane said. "We're surviving here. We are day to day." 

"And who the hell do you propose we send?" Dale added. "We just sent seven of us off in various directions." 

"I'll go. Give me a vehicle," Lori snapped. 

"Nobody goes anywhere alone, you know that," Shane said back, and you got the feeling he was holding onto his temper by a thread. 

Lori stared at him without saying anything before she nodded once. "Yes, sir," she muttered, and stalked off. 

"Lor- Carl, stay here a minute," Shane said when the kid started to follow her. Shane did instead, and you turned to look at the Atlanta skyline with narrowed eyes. 

Hmmm. You had an idea.


	8. Lie #8: "I Can't Risk That. Not For Anyone" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

He talked to Lori. She was pissed about his attitude, apparently, and snapped something at him about being too busy taking care of one person to think about the good of everyone. 

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked, starting to get pissed himself.

Lori scoffed and shook her head. "I know you were friends with her before, Shane, but she is not the only person left alive out there." 

"Oh you- you think this is about Slugger? Naw, I don't want her going back in there," he said. "But I don't want you going anywhere either. You cannot go off like that, all- all half-cocked. If only for him. That boy has suffered enough, he doesn't need to lose his mother too."

Lori had narrowed her eyes at him and told him fiercely she was a good mom. Shane agreed with that, and somehow, despite every time he said it was the last time, the argument ended with him kissing her again. 

They broke apart when Carl called for her, and Shane sent him into her tent as he strode off to get back to chopping wood. He glanced around for Ace automatically and didn't see her anywhere, but he wasn't too worried. She knew better than to go wandering off alone either.

Few hours later, Carl wandered up to him, looking bored and worried. Shane couldn't let that stand for long, and he had the kid practicing knots and laughing with him. 

When Carl smiled, he looked like Rick, Shane thought sadly. 

"Make a 'p', then pull it tight. Hey-o! Just like that!" he cheered Carl on when he got it right. 

The CB crackled again, and Shane's attention shot to it. They'd sent a radio with their group, and besides, there was whoever had tried to reach them earlier. Shane wished he'd heard whoever it was, before they'd lost the signal. 

"Hello, base camp? Can anybody out there hear me?" T Dog's voice came through the static, and Shane rose with a sinking feeling in his guts. He ruffled Carl's hair as he went, muttering at him to stay put. 

They'd moved the CB up on top of Dale's Winnebago, thinking maybe a bit more height would get a clearer signal. Dale bent over as those around camp gathered to listen and T Dog's voice came again. 

"Base camp, this is T Dog. Can anyone hear me?"

"Hello? Hello?" Dale called into the thing, like it was a telephone. Shane shook his head, worry making him kind of an asshole as he wondered why nearly everyone in this camp had few survival or practical skills among them. 

The goddamn Dixons at least hunted, skinned, and cooked their meat. Ace could do anything if you showed it to her once, and had a knack for finding the things that needed doing and doing them without having to be asked. Sure, Jim and Dale knew cars and the generators, but he could swear every other person here was dead weight sometimes. 

Shane hated that he thought like that, but he was stretched thin and sometimes he lay awake at night wondering what the hell he'd do if the dead made their way up the mountain. He was one damn man, and his shotgun only had so many rounds. 

"Reception's bad on this end. Repeat, repeat," Dale called into the CB. 

Static covered T Dog's response and Dale fiddled with the dials, trying to bring him back in. 

"Is that them?" Lori asked. 

Dale froze as T's voice came back. "We're in some deep shit. We're trapped in the department store." 

Shane's stomach dropped to his feet and he shoved a hand through his hair. Amy panicked immediately, her voice hysterical as she asked if he'd said they were trapped. Shane wanted to scream at both her and Lori that if they'd just stop running their damn mouths, maybe everyone could hear. 

"There are geeks all over the place. Hundreds of 'em. We're surrounded." 

"Fuck," Shane muttered. 

Dale was yelling for T Dog to repeat that last part, but Shane knew what he'd said. They were trapped. Six people, including their supply man- the only other not completely useless person here- and Ace's brother. 

Shit, Ace, he thought and looked around to see if she'd heard. He still didn't see her, but not everyone was gathered. He was glad, whatever the reason. She might not have liked her brother very much, but she loved him. 

Thunder rumbled as Dale twisted the dials and Shane listened to the squealing static and wondered what Rick would have done right now. 

"He said the department store," Lori said slowly from behind him. 

Shane closed his eyes. They'd want to try to rescue them. He heard it in Lori's voice, and knew she was going to be even more pissed, and even more weirdly bitchy toward him probably, when he shot her down. They'd known the risks. Everyone who went had been told they were on their own. Shane couldn't afford to put anyone else in danger. 

"Shane..." Lori said softly. 

"No way," he snapped. "We do not go after them. We do not risk the rest of the group. Y'all know that." 

She stared at him like he spoke a foreign language, or like she couldn't believe he could be so cold. He shook his head, fighting the urge to scream at her that he was sorry he wasn't the good cop. Shane was the bad cop, every time. Rick was the good one. 

"So we're just going to leave her there?" Amy demanded. 

Shane dropped his head and took a deep breath, wishing Rick was here for the thousandth time that day. Rick would give her that look and she'd be crying but agreeing that it was best. Rick would set his hand on her shoulder and she'd be sad but accepting. Shane tried his best to do what Rick would have done, lowering his voice and speaking to her gently. 

"Look, Amy, I know that this is not- not easy-" he started. 

"She volunteered to go! To help the rest of us!" 

"I- I know. And she knew the risks, right?" he said, willing her to understand. To not make things harder than they already would be. "See, if she's trapped, she's gone. So we just have to deal with that. There's nothin' we can do." 

Amy stared at him, face blank before her eyes got hard. "She's my sister. You son of a bitch." 

Shane closed his eyes for a half a second as she ran off, accepting that. Yes, yes he was. He was a son of a bitch. He turned to go after her and found Lori glaring at him with her hands on her hips. She shook her head and scoffed. 

"That what you're going to tell YN, too?" she asked him softly, and headed after Amy. 

Thunder rumbled as everyone else stood silent, and Shane looked to the sky and wished someone, anyone out there would come help him figure out what the hell he was doing trying to lead this group. He looked down at Carl's wide eyes and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. 

"It's alright," he said quietly. "Come on, let's work on those knots some more until your mom gets back, ok?" 

"Is she ok, Uncle Shane?" Carl asked anxiously, and Shane mustered up a smile. 

"Of course she is, little man. Amy's just upset and your mom went to talk to her is all. Don't worry about it." 

Carl glanced around as he picked up the rope and twirled it in his hands. "Uncle Shane?" 

"Hmm?" Shane asked, staring out across the camp and thinking about what in the world he was going to tell Ace. Thinking about six people that he'd sent into Atlanta instead of going himself, whose blood rested squarely on his shoulders now. 

"We really can't save them?" Carl asked, voice catching. 

Shit, Shane thought, and ran his hand across his face. He looked down and Carl was staring at his hands, looking small and so damn young. The kid was eleven, Shane reminded himself. He was eleven and had already lost his dad, had the dead start eating people, watched a city get bombed. Now they were losing more people, and his mom and Shane, Uncle Shane, were caught up in whatever their own ongoing drama was. 

Shane sighed. "I know you and Slugger have decided I'm the equivalent of Superman, kiddo. And I really wish I was. I wish I could- could spin around real fast in a phone booth and put on tights and a cape and fly down there and bring them back. That'd be a funny sight, huh?" he asked, nudging Carl's shoulder with his own. 

Carl smiled slightly, but he looked confused. "What's a phone booth?" he asked, and Shane cracked up. 

"Aww, little man, you're makin' me feel my age!" he complained, and Carl's smile grew with Shane's laugh. "Don't worry about it. Point is, I wish there was something, anything we could do. But we can't risk anyone else. We've got to have enough people up here in case anything happens." 

"Will the walkers come up here?" Carl asked. 

Shane hesitated. He didn't want to lie to the kid, but he didn't want to scare him either. "They could. They haven't so far. Hopefully they won't. But if they do, you know I'll take care of you and your mom. You don't have to worry about that. I will always look out for the two of you," he told Carl seriously. 

Carl looked up at him and nodded. "I know, Uncle Shane." 

"Yeah. Come on, man, gotta learn these knots. This is real useful life skills right here." 

Shane knew as soon as Rick walked into the locker room that something wasn't right. Rick's eyes were glassy and wide, his shirt wasn't buttoned right, and for the first time in the three years since they'd joined the Sheriff's department, Rick didn't have his hat anywhere in sight. 

"Rick. You ok, brother?" Shane asked, setting his hands on Rick's shoulders. 

"What?" Rick asked, staring blankly at Shane. 

Shane glanced around at the other two deputies in the locker room, who looked at them curiously. "Alright, let's- come with me," Shane decided. 

He led Rick out and into the courtyard, to their car. Rick leaned against it, looking around like he wasn't quite sure what was going on. 

"What the hell's wrong? You're scarin' me, man," Shane demanded, setting his hand son his belt and giving Rick a look he hoped would get his friend to spill his guts. 

Rick gestured vaguely. "Lori-" he started, then stopped and licked his lips, shook his head. "Lori's-" 

Shane's heart started thudding, mind whirling with all the ways this could go. Lori's sick, Shane. She's got cancer. Lori's leaving me, Shane. I don't know what happened, man. Lori's been hurt; she's in the hospital. Lori's-

"Lori's pregnant." 

Shane's panic spiral stuttered to a halt and he blinked at Rick. "Holy shit," he mumbled. 

Rick nodded, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "I know." 

"No, holy shit, man. Congratulations, brother. You're gonna be a daddy. You- Rick Grimes, you're gonna be a daddy," he said, laughing, and grabbed Rick in a hug. 

Rick stayed immobile in his arms for long enough that Shane began to wonder if this was even something his friend had wanted. He was about to let go and ask when Rick sucked in a sharp breath and started laughing. 

Rick grabbed him, holding on and thumping Shane on the back vigorously. "I'm gonna- Shane, I'm gonna be a dad. Lori's gonna be a mom. Lori's having a baby." 

Shane let him go and they grinned at each other. "Lori's havin' a baby." 

Shane looked up when Lori came back. She rearranged the worried, pinched expression into a smile when she caught sight of Carl at Shane's side. Carl waved and she headed over toward them. 

Shane looked at her as she made her way to them, really looked at her. She was too thin, he thought. Hell, she'd always been tiny, but the past few months had been a little on the lean side. Add in the heat and the sheer increase in manual labor for all of them, and he shouldn't have been surprised there wasn't an ounce of extra weight on her anymore. 

It still made him feel like he was failing her. Failing everyone. Shane was supposed to be in charge of these people, and here he was tying knots with Rick's kid instead of being in Atlanta risking his own life for them. 

Shane would lay down his life for Lori and Carl, no question, but instead he'd laid down others for them. He wasn't entirely certain he could live with that.

Her hair was long and loose around her shoulders, and he knew the weight of it in his hands. She looked worried and sad all the time, but he couldn't blame her. Even when they were together, Shane knew she was thinking about Rick. 

He supposed it should have bothered him. It didn't, but he reassured himself that it was only because so many aspects of whatever they had going on bothered him too much for there to be room for something else. He hated the secrecy. Hated sneaking around in the dirt or the dark, hiding in shadows and fucking in the bushes like- 

Like they were doing something wrong. 

And God help him, when her hands weren't on his skin or her mouth on his, it felt so goddamn wrong. She was Rick's wife. His best friend's wife, and Shane had his hands all over her. 

He wished he could tell someone. Anyone. Just one person, so it felt less like Shane was Lori's dirty little secret. Shit, if he thought about it long enough, he realized he was starting to feel used. 

He didn't fucking like it. 

So every time, he said it was the last time. Every time, when she flashed him the smile and nodded toward the trees, and he'd shove a hand through his hair and follow her out there. She'd be waiting and he'd have his hands in her hair and her lips on his skin as he told her they couldn't do this anymore. Not after this time. 

She agreed every time, and then she'd give him the look again. 

Just another last-call lie, he supposed, and wished to hell he could ask Ace for advice. But when Lori had said don't tell anyone, he hadn't. Not even Ace.

"Hey, baby," Lori said with a smile. "What are you doing?" 

"Uncle Shane's teaching me," Carl answered. 

"That's good. Honey, why don't you go see Carol and Sophia, work on your reading? I need to talk to Shane for a minute," Lori said distractedly. 

Carl glanced at Shane and Shane smiled at him, sending him off with a jerk of his chin. Carl handed over the rope and took off, and Shane twisted it in his hands as he waited for Lori to speak. 

"Why the hell aren't we trying to rescue them?" Lori finally asked, tone sharp but pitched low so no one else could hear. 

Shane appreciated that, he guessed, but he didn't want to argue with her about it again. She knew why. They couldn't risk anyone else. 

Shane rose, hands on his hips, and glared at her. "We went over this, Lor," he said. "We can't risk anyone else. We've lost six people already." 

"We don't have to. We could get them," she shot back, not backing down. 

"Lori-" he started, but she cut him off, stepping closer and putting a hand on his arm. 

"Shane, we could rescue them. You know we could," she insisted. 

Shane looked away, shaking his head in refusal. "We might. Ok? We might. Or we'd get even more people killed, and then where would we be, huh? You and Carl would be in danger. I can't do that. I can't risk that. Not for anyone." 

"Not even for YN's brother?" Lori said sharply. 

Shane sighed. "No. Not even for-" 

"Shane?" Dale's voice sounded odd, and Shane looked around Lori's pissed-off face to see the old man coming toward him. 

"What, Dale?" he snapped. 

"Not to make a bad situation even worse, but- Jim just told me Ace is gone," Dale said. 

Shane's head whipped around to scan the camp, like he could summon her through sheer force of will. "What the hell do you mean, gone?"


	9. Lie #9: "We Got This" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of past domestic violence/abuse  
PTSD   
mentions of drug use

Jim held up his hands as Shane stalked over to him. "She told me she was heading down to the quarry, but I just looked and she's not there." 

Shane let out a frustrated yell, spinning and heading to get his shotgun. He scooped it up and Lori stepped in his path. Her eyes flashed as she crossed her arms and planted herself in front of him. 

"Alright, Lor, you're going to-" he started, moving around her to head to his Jeep. 

"I'm not doing anything. Neither are you," she snapped, grabbing his arm. 

He stared at her. "The hell do you mean? I'm going down to-" 

"You said we couldn't risk anyone else. Think we can risk you?" Lori hissed. 

Shane froze. He shifted under Lori's hand, looking down at the gun in his white-knuckled grip and the mud caking the toes of his boots. "Goddamn it," he whispered. "Goddamn it!" 

"Not as easy when it's someone you care about, is it?" Lori asked softly. 

Shane whirled on her, wondering how the hell she could say something that damn bitchy, but her expression was sympathetic. Her grip on his arm gentled as he shoved a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and sighed. He nodded once and turned to Dale.

"Dale, head on up to that RV and keep an eye out, would you? For anything," he called. "I'm going to finish the fire wood," he added to Lori. 

She nodded and squeezed his arm before letting him go, and Shane walked back to where he'd left his ax with that tightness back in his chest that he'd gotten so used to after Ace told him they weren't friends anymore. Black rage was boiling in him again, rage at the whole fucking world, and the first thunk of the ax into the log felt too damn good to be healthy. 

By the time he'd cut enough wood for one of his high school's Friday night bonfires, much less the low-burning coals they allowed themselves up here, he felt- 

Well, not better, but less likely to take a swing at the next person who looked at him wrong. He sighed and swiped at the sweat dripping down his face, suddenly missing the shower jets at his gym. He glanced at the sky, wondering how long he'd been down here. 

Shane figured if something else had come to shit, someone would have come to get him, but still. He needed to check in, to reassure everyone that things were going to be ok. Instead, he closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then turned and punch the nearest tree. 

Why the fuck did she leave alone? She knew better, damn it. She knew what could happen, and he'd just reminded everyone not to do that exact shit. What the hell was she thinking? 

When it hit him, he wanted to hit the goddamn tree again. She was going to put signs on 85, which was exactly why Shane hadn't mentioned the idea to her. Goddamn it, Ace, he thought tiredly.

He should go after her. He'd lost one damn best friend already, and he couldn't- he couldn't live with losing another. 

He started up the path, shaking blood from his knuckles. He was going after her, risks be damned. He could live with losing Merle and Glenn and T Dog and Andrea and Jaqui and Morales. He couldn't live with losing her, no matter what he told Lori about risking them. 

Sorry, brother, he thought to Rick. I'm failing everyone again, aren't I? 

Carl ran up to him with a huge smile as soon as he walked into camp, and Shane somehow found a smile for the kid. Carl chattered at him for a minute and Shane felt like a dick but he honestly didn't head what he said, because Shane's mind wasn't here. He was already thinking about what he'd take with him to find her and haul her dumb ass back to safety. She'd bitch about taking care of herself, and sure Shane knew she'd slugged an asshole or two in her day, but Shane also knew what she looked like with blood all over her face, unconscious on the ground. He knew what she looked like with her eyes rolling back in her head as she passed out from turning too fast, bruises still covering half her damn face. 

That was a little too fucking fresh in his mind, and she could bitch all she wanted. Shane was going to protect her, because she did need it. She'd run off on her own, hadn't she? No fucking sense, he thought grimly. 

"So, can we, Uncle Shane?" Carl asked, and Shane looked down into his upturned, trusting eyes. 

"Can we what, little man?" he asked. "I'm sorry. My mind was somewhere else, kiddo." 

He shrugged. "It's ok. Dale told me I could use his gear to fish if I had someone go with me and I was wondering if you would." 

"Hold your horses, young man." Lori sounded amused as she walked up with a towel in one hand and scissors in the other. "Haircut time first. You're getting shaggy back there. Head on over to the fire and I'll be there in a minute." 

Carl groaned, but did as she asked, and Lori shook her head at his retreating back before looking at Shane and the shotgun in he gripped with his bloodied hand. 

"Going somewhere?" she asked, eyes steady and reserved. 

Shane looked at Carl, sitting and fidgeting by the campfire, at Lori with her too-thin arms crossed and the tightness at the corners of her eyes. He glanced over at Amy, sitting outside the RV and staring into space as she picked at a thread on her jeans. The Morales kids chased each other and argued over a doll, Mrs. Morales separating them as he watched. 

Fucking hell, Shane swore. "No," he told Lori. "No, I just finished chopping wood and came to check on everyone." 

Lori nodded. "Come sit with us, then," she offered with a smile and a squeeze of his fingers with hers. 

He followed her over, because what else could he do? 

He cleaned his shotgun and teased Carl about shaving when he fidgeted during his haircut. The kid looked so damn miserable sitting under Lori's scissors, and hell, Shane was pretty miserable too, so he offered to teach him the sacred art of catching frogs. 

Carl turned and looked at Lori. She shrugged and turned him back to Shane, and the confused and intrigued look on the kid's face had him smiling for real and getting into it. He mimicked Lori and her eyes shot to him, the look on her face a reminder of times he'd picked on her while she and Rick were dating or sitting around Rick's dining room table. She'd roll her eyes and try to frown, but she'd be smiling too hard- like she was right now.

"Aw, don't listen to her, bud. You and me, we'll be heroes. We'll feed these folks Cajun-style Kermit legs," he declared. 

Lori snorted, focusing on Carl's hair. "I would rather eat Miss Piggy." 

Shane's lips twitched as he looked at her, and without missing a beat, she sighed. 

"Yes, that came out wrong." 

Shane laughed, this moment right here the most right he'd felt with Lori in a long time. "Heroes, son, spoken of in song and legend. You and me, Shane and Carl." He leaned toward the kid and saw his best friend's smile. 

Some unholy fucking racket started echoing up the quarry, and Shane snatched up his shotgun and shot to his feet. "Talk to me, Dale!" 

"I can't tell yet," the old man replied, binoculars glued to his eyes. 

Shane headed toward the path, loading shells back into his shotgun as he walked. 

"Is it them? Are they back?" Amy asked, voice pleading. 

Once again Shane had the uncharitable urge to ask how the hell she expected him to answer that when Dale had just said he didn't know what it was. Instead, he kept his eyes peeled and his mouth fucking shut. 

"I'll be damned," Dale said softly. "Stolen car is my guess." 

Shane muttered under his breath as a bright red, wailing beast came speeding up, slinging gravel. He could make out two figures in the front seats, and he shoved a hand through his hair, jaw tight, when Ace stuck her hand out the window and waved. Fucking waved. 

The car skidded to a halt and Glenn jumped out of the driver's side, grinning from ear to ear. 

"Pop the hood! Pop the damn hood, please!" Shane demanded over the fucking noise of the thing, and Glenn's smile faded as Amy started yelling questions at him too. 

Ace leaned over in the passenger seat, her eyes steady on Shane's, and popped the hood. Shane focused on the noise coming from the machine, and Jim leaned over his shoulder, tugged loose a wire, and silence blessedly descended. 

Shane straightened up and looked at the two of them, because Ace had come around to stand with an arm slung around Glenn's shoulders. 

"What the fuck were you thinking? Either of you?" Shane demanded, glaring liberally at both of them. 

Amy had finally shut up as well, he noticed, and Ace and Glenn glanced at each other. Glenn's face had fallen and he looked chagrined, but Shane didn't care. He'd been worried, goddamn it, and she looked utterly and completely unrepentant. 

"What the hell are you thinking, drivin' this wailing bastard up here? You'll draw every damn dead for miles around," Shane snarled, stabbing a finger at Glenn. 

Dale said something about how the sound was bouncing and they should be ok, but Shane wasn't done and he wasn't in the mood to listen to anyone else right now. He rounded on Ace, who straightened up and that damn stubborn look came into her eyes, the one she always got when Shane told her she needed to dump that asshole for good. 

That pissed him off more, because he'd been right about that, hadn't he? And he was right about her running off, and she needed to know it. 

"And what the fuck do you think you were doing, Slugger? Huh? Hadn't I just said nobody goes anywhere alone? I turn around and Jim's tellin' me you said you were going to the quarry and he never fucking saw you again!" 

She shrugged. "I went to check out 85. See if there was anywhere for the signs you neglected to mention were under discussion. And don't give me that bullshit about not having time, I've been complaining about being bored for weeks!" 

"We did not have the-" 

"The resources, the time, the whatever, yes, I know," she cut him off with a roll of her eyes. "What it really came down to is you knew I'd do it and you don't trust me to handle myself either. Just like fucking Merle. I get beat up one damn time and every man around me assumes I'm in need of constant rescue." 

That black rage Shane had barely tamed earlier came roaring back and he lost it. He was up in her space, too damn close and he knew it, and he couldn't stop the words exploding from him. "You do need to be rescued! You didn't get 'beat up' once, you got landed in the fucking hospital once! How many times did he hit you before he knocked you out that night, huh? How many times, Slugger?" 

She glared at him, her shoulders square and tight and Shane knew he'd just crossed a line. "It doesn't matter, damn it! How many times are you going to try to make me one of your calls, Shane? One of your victims. I'm not a battered woman! I can handle myself! Hell, you don't call me 'Slugger' because I love the fucking game of baseball, do you?" 

"Punching some drunk bastard in a bar is not the same as fighting off the dead alone!" he snapped. "It's not the same as fighting anyone with half his fucking wits, and I think you know that, right? Right?" 

He shoved his hands through his hair and the tossed them up in the air, still raging at her. "I mean, damn it, Ace, you could have-" 

He saw it. His arm shot out, him gesturing beyond her toward the city as he made his point, and he saw it happen like it was in slow motion. 

She fucking flinched. 

She flinched, and paled slightly, her eyes going wide. Shane froze mid-word, mid-gesture, mid-rage, and stopped breathing. 

He lowered his hand slowly as a look of shame crossed her face and her cheeks flamed as red as her hair had been. Silence had fallen all around them, heavy and breathless, and Shane felt the weight of it on his shoulders now as she straightened up and met his eyes, a deliberate, artificial fearlessness in hers as she drew herself up to rage back at him. 

He could see it in her face- a fierce, stubborn need to prove she wasn't scared, that it didn't mean anything that she'd just jerked away from his gesture, that she could handle herself and whatever Shane wanted to throw at her. It didn't matter. 

Shane was done. His hand shook slightly as he shoved it through his hair and took a step back from her, turning away even as she glared harder and stepped forward to close the distance he'd just put between them. She reached a hand toward his arm and he shook his head at her, not meeting her eyes. 

"Shane-" she said, sounding frustrated, but another engine approached and cut off whatever she was going to say. 

Shane was glad, because he didn't think he could talk to her, not yet. Not with the rage swimming through him like it was. They both turned to look, Shane automatically stepping forward a little to get in front of her and her letting him without arguing. 

A cube van he didn't recognize approached, and as soon as it parked Andrea came running out of the back. Amy practically tackled her, and Shane was glad for them under the simmering burn of his temper. 

T Dog and Jaqui came next, receiving hugs and comments from the group, and then Morales' kids were running to him yelling "Papa! Daddy!" As they crashed together, Shane looked over at Carl with a sigh. 

Lori had pulled him slightly away and was crouched in front of him holding his hands, and the kid's face was scrunched up with grief. Lori spoke to him and Shane felt the lump form in his own throat as he remembered Lori in that same position, after Shane had told her Rick was in surgery. 

Ace's had slid into his and he gripped hard enough he was probably hurting her. He loosened his grip instantly, eyes on Lori and Carl still, but she didn't loosen hers. 

"It's not your fault," she whispered. 

Shane shook his head and met her eyes. "Yeah, I don't know about that," he said softly. "How'd yall get out of there, anyway?" he called louder, to Glenn. 

Glenn smiled. "New guy- he got us out." 

"New guy?" Shane said sharply. 

"Yeah, some crazy vato who just got into town," Morales put in, his arm around his wife and his daughter on his hip. "Hey, helicopter boy! Come say hello." 

Shane looked toward the van and his hand clamped on Ace's like a vice. She whispered 'holy fuck' beside him, but all Shane could do was stare in disbelief. 

"Guy's a cop, like you," Morales said, his voice coming from far away.

Rick stood there, full uniform, looking tired but very much alive. Shane couldn't move, couldn't think, as Rick's eyes met his and went wide, then moved beyond Shane to where he knew Lori and Carl were behind him. 

"Oh my god," Rick whispered. 

Carl started screaming 'Dad! Dad!' and then Rick was holding him and they were on the ground, and Ace was mumbling something with her fingers tangled in his and her other hand gripping his sleeve, and Shane- 

Shane couldn't do anything but watch, mind blank, as Rick picked Carl up and walked to Lori. Lori, who looked like she'd seen a ghost because she fucking well had; Rick was a ghost, come back from the grave and standing, impossibly, before her. Shane had been there, he'd had his head on Rick's chest and begged his friend to be breathing, but he wasn't- 

Rick had not been breathing, his heart hadn't been beating, and there was no damn way he could be seeing Rick before him right now, clinging to Carl and Lori with all three of them crying. He could not be; Shane had finally lost it. 

But he was. His best friend was back from the dead and his best friend's wife was looking at him over Rick's shoulder like Shane was the unholy bastard offspring of Lucifer himself and one of those dead fuckers they were on the run from. 

Shane's world had just gone up into flames, worse than when the first dead bastard stood up in front of his eyes, but when Rick turned to look at him and gave him that grateful nod, Shane smiled and nodded back. 

Rick was back. That was all that fucking mattered to him; Rick was back. 

"Ready for this, brother?" Shane asked Rick, loading a round in the chamber as he glanced over. 

Rick nodded, eyes hard and that damn Python already in his hands, scanning the area around them. "Ready. Be safe." 

"I got your back," Shane told him easily. "We got this." 

Rick smiled slightly, but when Rick was in the zone he was serious all the time. Shane was the one who joked; who took things too lightly, and that made sense after all. Rick had a family to get back to safely, and Shane was able to be more carefree. 

Except that getting Rick back to his family was Shane's responsibility, one he took more seriously than anything in the world and not even Rick knew that for sure. Half of Shane's 'carefree' and 'risky' approach- words thrown at him by Rick one day after Shane had broken protocol but saved the damn dog, didn't he?- was just shit he did to keep Rick from doing it. 

Rick joked about Shane's hero complex, but Shane had developed his to keep Rick's under wraps, damn it. 

They moved forward with the others, a multi-jurisdictional strike force on what should be a fairly routine drug bust. But it was always the routine ones that crept up and tossed the impossible at you, Shane thought as he and Rick took position on the back exit. Leon and Lam took up positions with them, and they waited. 

As soon as the squad out front called 'police!', the back door opened and meth heads came staggering out wearing their lab coats and safety gear. Shane, Rick, Leon, and Lam started yelling and the guys dropped to their knees with their hands up. Shane and Rick moved forward and started cuffing people while Leon and Lam covered them. 

Shane had his back to Rick when it happened, trusting the other two to watch his back and Rick's. Rick grunted in pain, Leon yelled, and Shane tightened the flex cuffs and whirled to see his partner going hand-to-hand with a crazy-eyed bastard with a knife. Rick held him at bay, but Leon and Lam were both screaming that they didn't have a shot, and Rick couldn't disengage without getting cut. 

Shane flew into motion, digging a textbook tackle from somewhere out of his glory days of football and taking the guy down. The bastard was screaming, Leon and Lam were screaming, hell Shane was screaming- 

"Drop the knife! Drop it now!" he yelled in the motherfucker's ear, holding his wrist in a joint lock and one knee on the back of the guy's neck. Shit, he'd probably get reviewed for this, the back of his mind said, but all Shane could see was that knife way too fucking close to his best friend's neck. 

The guy dropped the knife and started sobbing wildly, and Shane picked it up and tossed it away. He yanked the guy's hands back roughly and wrapped his last flex cuffs around him. Shane rose, pulling the bastard up with him by the back of his shirt, and looked around wildly for Rick. 

"Rick, you good? You cut, man?" he demanded. 

Rick was cuffing the last of the bastards, the one Shane should have done next, and he shook his head, but Shane's eyes went unerringly to the slice in Rick's sleeve. 

"Brother, you cut?" Shane asked again, more urgently, jerking the asshole around as he headed Rick's way. 

Rick glanced at his sleeve and sighed, then met Shane's eyes. "I'm ok. Just got my uniform. I'll get a new one when we get to the station. Shane- do not-" 

Shane let out a breath of relief when he saw there wasn't any trace of blood on Rick's arm. "I know, I know," he cut Rick off, flashing him a crooked grin. "Don't tell Lori."


	10. Lie #10: "You've Always Worried Too Much" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentions of domestic violence/abuse  
PTSD  
mentions of past child abuse  
mentions of drugs

It wasn't very articulate at all, but the only thing you could do when you saw Rick Grimes step out of the fucking truck was repeat 'holy shit, Shane, holy shit' while clinging to his sleeve. When you could tear your eyes away from Rick and Carl on the ground to look at Shane, he looked like a light breeze could have knocked him over without having to try very hard.

"He's dead, Ace; Rick's dead. My- my best friend is dead, and it's my fault," Shane had whispered the first night you'd found each other, standing on top of the RV. 

You'd shaken your head, denial already on your lips, and he'd glared at you and told you not to bother. You'd snorted, taken his hand in both of yours, and done it anyway, and Shane had held onto you with bruising force- like he was now- and poured out the whole story. 

You'd never, not in a million years, forget the way he looked while he did. The way his eyes had filled with hatred as he stared over your shoulder and snarled, "dispatch got it wrong; there was a third man." The way he went pale and his hand shook, scrubbing at his face and describing the ambulance ride, Rick in surgery. "He never woke up. Last thing he said to me was 'do not tell Lori' and he never woke up." The way his eyes filled and he tried to pretend like they didn't, dashing angrily at the tears until your touched his cheek, just your fingertips, and he leaned into your hand and cried for the first time you'd ever seen, whispering in a raw, broken version of his voice, "he wasn't- he wasn't breathin', and he didn't have a heartbeat, Slugger; my best friend, layin' there and they were shootin' people in the halls and here he was dead and I- I had to get his family. Rick's dead, Ace; my best friend is dead and he isn't coming back and I left him in that hellhole."

There'd been nothing you could do but hug him and tell him he had to. He had to, to keep them safe. 

Now he stared at his friend, back from the dead and clinging to his wife and son, and Shane looked like maybe he was the one who'd died. You leaned into his arm, trying to anchor him to reality before he floated off into the stratosphere like you were afraid he would. Your hand ached in his, bones crushing together with the strength of his grip, and you frowned down at his knuckles, suddenly noticing they were bruised and bloody. What the hell had he been doing while you were gone? 

The group was smiling and whispering as Rick rose and hugged Lori. You didn't think it was possible after looking at Shane, but Lori looked even worse, and you couldn't even imagine how she was feeling right then. You were so fucking happy for them. For all of them, you thought, and then you caught the way Lori looked at Shane. 

You blinked and it was gone, but there'd been one moment, one look of utter hatred and loathing and you had no idea what that could be about.

You glanced at Shane. He shifted slightly, a vague almost-gesture with the shotgun in his other hand, and then he and Rick were smiling and nodding at each other. At least Rick and Dickhead seemed happy to see each other, you thought. 

Speaking of dickheads, where the hell was Merle? You couldn't believe he wasn't making some kind of upsetting remark over the reunion. 

You glanced around and didn't see him. You frowned, your eyes narrowing on Glenn, who stood there beaming at Rick and family. Glenn must have felt your eyes on him, because he glanced at you, swallowed, and looked away, shifting uncomfortably. 

When he'd come screaming up in that red beast, you'd been at the mouth of the quarry road, wondering if you should maybe have taken a vehicle. That would have been suspicious, and if Shane had known you were leaving, you wouldn't have been leaving. But maybe this wasn't the best idea you'd ever had, all things considered. 

"What the hell?" you'd muttered, hearing the car alarm and looking around in confusion. Glenn took the turn almost on two wheels, then fishtailed on the gravel and skidded to a stop beside you. 

He rolled the window down and grinned at you. "Hey. Need a lift?" he yelled over the siren. 

"Hell yes," you muttered, and hopped in. "What the hell, Glenn?" 

"Had some trouble. Put your seat belt on," the crazy idiot had advised, and then you'd been too busy laughing and screaming along with him for more questions. 

You had a few now, though. "Uh, guys? Sorry to interrupt this moment, but you're one asshole short of the Happy Meal you left with, and unfortunately, he's my asshole. That came out wrong, but you know what I meant."

Silence greeted you, with Andrea, T Dog, Glenn, and Jaqui looking uncomfortable. 

"Look, Ace-" T Dog said, stepping forward. 

"Oh my God," Rick said over him. "Ace. You're-" 

You sighed, letting go of Shane to step forward a little. He let you and you flexed your fingers, wondering how long it would take for blood to return and just how painful an experience that was going to be. "Yeah, I'm Slugger. Nice to see you again, Deputy Grimes. I'm delighted that you're back from the dead and all- and looking way better than those other assholes who've pulled that same trick, I might add- but I'm short a jackass of a brother." 

Rick turned so he had Carl in one arm and Lori tucked under the other. She still looked totally shell-shocked, leaning into Rick with her arms around him and her hand on Carl's back. You really did feel bad about intruding on their moment, but- 

It was Merle. Guess some of Daryl's blind loyalty had rubbed off on you after all. 

You crossed your arms and looked at eyes that wouldn't meet yours. "Shit," you whispered. "Is he dead?" 

"Merle- you're related to Merle?" Rick asked slowly. 

You nodded. "Yeah, he's my older brother. Look, I know how he was, ok? If he got himself killed, just tell me. I need to know." 

"That's the thing," Glenn said slowly. "We- we don't know." 

You blinked. "Hey, what the hell does that mean?" 

"Whatcha doin', little sis?" Merle asked you, breaking your concentration and making you jump. 

You looked over your shoulder at him. "Drawing. Nobody said I couldn't." 

"Where'd ya get the chalk?" 

"It was left out," you admitted, scuffing the toe of your worn-out sneakers against the sidewalk. "I shouldn't have messed with it." 

Merle shrugged. "I don't care. Ya did all this?" 

He looked over the wall where you'd been drawing, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked. You could feel yourself turning red, and you stared down at your feet as Merle ambled over to stand beside you. His pants were frayed at the knees and the hems, like yours, and stained as well. Your pants had chalk dust all over them. 

"Shit, baby sis. Looks good," he said with a smile your way, and you grinned back as he tossed his arm over your shoulders. 

"Thanks," you muttered, not wanting him to know how much his praise mattered. Merle was thirteen, the king of the building and the neighborhood, and most of the time he didn't have any time for you and Daryl. Sure, he'd make sure the two of you were up and ready for school, and he'd make sure you ate as regularly as he could, but mostly he regarded you as a nuisance and a chore. You supposed he was tired of taking care of you already, since he had been since you were born. 

And he probably got tired of taking beatings for you guys, too. The scar on your back burned when you thought about that, and you pushed it aside. 

"Don't think it's just kid shit?" you asked him now. 

He snorted. "Ya eight. Everything ya do's kid shit. But naw, it's pretty good. Come on, let's get inside and get the chalk off ya before Will gets home, though. He ain't gonna wanna see a mess. Need to get you some better shit and see what you can do. Paint and pencils and stuff." 

"We ain't got money for all that," you said as he steered you toward the door of your building, dusting at the chalk on your hands. 

Two days later, he handed you a sketchbook and sketch pencils with a wink and a finger to his lips. You didn't ask where he got them. 

You took a little while for yourself after they told you the story. 

Rick actually let go of his wife and kid to come over and set a hand on your shoulder while he told you earnestly what had happened. You'd mostly found that amusing, but there was something compelling about him. Shane had described the way Rick did that to you often, and often in an annoyed and vaguely jealous tone, and you'd smiled when he did, despite how very much you wanted to know what the hell was going on. Shane shifted and rubbed at his eyes beside you, muttering profanity that punctuated the story in interesting places. 

"He was high. He was shooting at the walkers on the road, drawing more of them to the building. When asked to stop, he became volatile. Violent," Rick said intently. "He refused to stop, and turned on his own people. He said some, ah, some things." 

"He turned into a racist, sexist bastard," you muttered, shaking your head. "Damn it, Merle. I told him to stay away from the shit. I'd say he wasn't always that bad, and he wasn't, but no one here would believe it." 

Shane started to reach for you and stopped abruptly, his face going blank for a moment. "You don't need to defend him," he bit out instead. 

You shrugged. "Oh, I can't defend him. He's a bastard, and whatever happened, he probably deserved it. But he's still my brother, and I want Deputy Grimes here to know he's not always one hundred percent just a trash human." 

"You can call me Rick," Rick said, sounding vaguely amused. "And I don't think anyone is always one hundred percent a trash human." 

"That's good," you said, and scooped your hair back from your face. "So, Rick. What'd my not-complete-trash brother do next?" 

"He beat the shit out of T Dog," Rick said bluntly. There'd been an assessing look in with intensity, you realized, and apparently you'd passed muster. "I stopped him. Handcuffed him to the roof until we could figure things out." 

"Oh, I'm sure he liked that," you mumbled. 

"He did not," Rick said dryly. "We had to split up, to draw the walkers away and get everyone out." 

"I dropped the key," T Dog said. "It went down the drain."

You turned slightly, blinking as you tried to process that one. "So, wait, let me just- let me process that. He's handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta, surrounded by walkers who broke into the building, and the key is gone. Wow. Ok. Uh, so he's dead." 

"Maybe not," Rick said softly. 

"I chained the door to the roof. The walkers couldn't break through that, and not enough of them could get to the doors at once to put enough weight on them to bring them down," T Dog said. 

"Huh," you managed. "Ah. Ok. Um, return to your reunion. I'm going to- go think about that for a minute." 

You waved off Shane's 'Slugger' and headed for your tent, ducking inside and flopping down on the bed. You listened with half an ear to the conversation arising outside, until the voices were too much and you closed your eyes and proceeded to fall asleep. 

Shane woke you up. 

"Ace, you ok?" he called outside the tent. "Ace?" 

You sat up and scrubbed at your face, frowning when you realized how damn dark it was in there. You unzipped the flap and crawled out, Shane pulling you to your feet. It was completely dark outside, and the fires were burning low in the pits you'd helped dig. 

Shane dropped your hand as soon as you were standing. "You ok?" 

"Yeah," you said, spinning your mom's ring on your finger. "I sacked out accidentally." 

Shane snorted. "I know. Carol came over to check on you earlier and told us to leave you be." 

"That sounds like her," you said. Shane started walking toward the fires, so you did too. You passed Carol, Sophia, and Ed gathered around one of their own and offered Carol a wave and Sophia a wink. They smiled at you and Ed glared at both you and Shane. 

"Feeling better?" Carol asked sweetly. 

"Much. Thanks for checking on me," you answered. "Sophia, tomorrow I was thinking about doing another attempt at making paint. You want to help me?" 

Sophia's face lit up and she turned to Carol, who smiled and nodded. "Long as you get all your chores done, and your homework." 

"And ya don't get it all over you like you done last time, too. Make an awful mess," Ed put in, and your shoulders went tense at his tone. 

Sophia looked down and nodded. "Yes, Daddy." 

"Sorry, that was my fault," you told Ed, trying for a smile. "A little miscalculation." 

"Well maybe you shouldn't be messin' around with somethin' you don't know how to do then. Don't bring my little girl back all covered in shit again, or you'll have to clean her up," he sneered. 

Shane opened his mouth but you beat him to it. 

"I'll be more careful this time, Ed, and if anything happens, of course I'll help out. I'll come find you tomorrow, Sophia," you told them pleasantly, and shoved lightly at Shane's arm to get him to keep walking. 

He did, and when you were out of Ed's earshot Shane spoke without looking at you. "I hate the way you let people talk to you, Slugger. Wish you'd push back sometimes. Put 'em in their place like you used to at the Lullaby." 

"Oh, so now I can take care of myself?" you mumbled bitterly. "What's the point? Man like Ed, he won't care. It'll make things worse."

"I never said you can't-" Shane cut off when you walked up to your usual fire pit. Rick had Lori and Carl cuddled up with him, with T Dog, Glenn, Andrea and Amy, and Dale all around the fire as well. 

Shane gestured you toward the last camp chair set up and flopped onto the ground beside it, leaning on a log. You rolled your eyes internally but curled up in the chair. 

"Hey, guys. Sorry to wander off dramatically and then not appear for hours. I may have fallen asleep," you said with a sheepish grin, and everyone smiled back at you. 

"You needed it, after your adventure," Lori said, and the slight cattiness that you'd heard from her a few times was back in her voice. "Where did you go, anyway? Shane was ready to run off after you when Jim said you'd disappeared." 

"I wanted to take a look at the highway, see about signs like you were talking about. I'm a tough girl, I can handle myself. Shane worries too much," you said pointedly, and Shane snorted. 

"I worry too much now, is it?" 

"You've always worried too much," you shot back. 

"Oh, come on, Slugger-" he started, turning toward you. 

You sighed. "Don't start, Dickhead." 

Rick laughed out loud at that, and you flashed him a grin. "I like that. Dickhead. Suits you, Shane." 

"Thanks, man," Shane mumbled, and started staring into the fire instead of looking at you. 

Rick chuckled again, and you watched Shane deliberately stare at the fire as conversation resumed where it'd left off. Dale asked Rick about how he got here, and Rick talked about waking up and how disoriented he'd been. You got that. You'd been pretty disoriented yourself. 

"Mom said you died," Carl said softly, and you reached toward Shane, only to realize he'd sat too far away for you to touch. 

"She had every reason to believe that. Don't you doubt it," Rick told Carl, and Shane swallowed hard, his eyes far away. 

Lori said they were going to medivac patients to Atlanta, but it never happened. You snorted. 

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. Grady was a damn mess; they couldn't have taken anyone in if they tried," you said when they looked at you. "That's where I was when Atlanta fell. Daryl came and got me up and in a wheelchair. We literally fought our way out of the ground floor and into the truck. I stabbed a nurse in the eyeball and lost a knife, and Daryl thought bitching at me about that was important." 

"Why were you in the hospital?" Rick asked as the others chuckled lightly. 

"Malcolm fucking Hall," Shane snarled, and Rick's eyes softened as his hand threaded into Lori's hair. 

You sighed. "I take it you were spreading my business around then."

"I kept tabs on him and you. Sue me," he shot back. 

You ignored him and Rick changed the subject gracefully. "From the look of the hospital I was in, it was overrun. I'm not surprised Grady was the same way." 

"Looks don't deceive. I barely got them out." Shane didn't sound so pissed off this time, more haunted. 

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. Can't begin to express it," Rick said firmly. He and Shane were staring at each other, a whole conversation in one long look. 

Ed tossed another log on the fire and you jerked at the thud, looking over at him. Shane sighed, scrubbed a hand across his face, and called across. 

"Hey, Ed. You wanna rethink that log?" 

Ed, with his back to your group, shot back that it was cold. You looked from the back of Ed's head to Shane as they went back and forth for a minute, Shane trying to reason with him and Ed repeating 'it's cold.' Shane looked pissed, and you tensed up when Ed told Shane to 'mind his own business for once' and Shane shot to his feet. 

"Shane," you said, reaching for him as he stalked by you, but he jerked his hand away from your touch and you sighed. "Ok then," you muttered. 

You couldn't hear what he said to Ed, but you could read the body language of all of them like an open book- one you'd read a few too many times when you were growing up. Shane stood, pissed and ready to go a round, over Ed. Ed leaned back deliberately, stretching his arm along the back of his chair and not looking all the way at Shane. He was playing it off, but he was pissed. Words were exchanged and suddenly Carol shot to her feet and pulled the log out. Shane shook his head, his disgust with Ed evident, and he looked toward you briefly across the fires. 

He muttered something, turning away to stomp out the embers, and crouched down to Sophia's level to talk to them. 

Don't make it worse for them, Shane, you thought at him desperately, your eyes on Ed's shoulders and stretched out arm. Even in the dark, even from here, you could read the tightness in his body, and the wariness in Carol and Sophia's. 

Goddamn hero complex, you thought as he rose and stalked by Ed with one more muttered comment. He wouldn't look at you as he walked by and dropped back down. Rick, however, was, and you mustered a smile for him before your eyes strayed back over to Carol and Sophia and Ed. 

"So, I hate to bring this up," Dale said slowly. "But... we need to talk about Daryl." 

Your eyes snapped to him. He held up a placating hand toward you. 

"Look, Ace. We know you do your best with your brothers, and Daryl's not a bad guy. He keeps us fed, that's for sure. But he's rather more, ah, impulsive than you are," Dale continued. "And we need to consider how Daryl is going to take the news." 

You sighed. "Honestly? I have no idea."


	11. Lie #11: "Sit and Talk or Yell at Me Some More; I Don't Care" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
domestic violence/abuse

Early morning hours had you crawling free of your tent, slowly straightening up, and wishing the ground wasn't quite so goddamn hard. 

Daryl was coming back some time today, you thought tiredly. Last night around the campfire, you'd talked with the others about the best way to approach it. General consensus was carefully, but even you couldn't say how well- or how poorly- he'd take the news. 

You were guessing it wouldn't be well.

Right now, though, you had another problem on your hands, and he was currently standing on top of the Winnebago with binoculars to his eyes and his back to the camp. You climbed up quietly, wandering over and rubbing your bare arms. It wasn't anything resembling cold, but you had a chill anyway. Maybe it was what you knew the two of you needed to talk about.

"Hey, Dickhead. How long you been up here? Anything moving?" you asked, hooking your thumbs in your back pockets as you stood beside him. He hadn't looked at you yet, but he'd shifted in place when you climbed up. 

He shrugged. "All night. Nothing movin'. Seems Dale was right about the noise." 

You nodded and stood in silence, waiting him out. He shifted again, panning the binoculars back over ground he'd already checked, until you got impatient and stepped in front of them. 

Stubborn ass held them in place anyway. 

"Hope you're enjoying that up close view of my boobs, Dickhead, but you're going to have to talk to me eventually," you said dryly. 

He took the binoculars off his eyes and set them down, shooting you a look partly amused and partly annoyed. "Happy now?" 

"Oh, delighted," you muttered. "So, let's have it." 

"Have what?" he asked, adjusting his hat. 

You scoffed and sat down, dangling your legs over the edge of the Winnebago as the grey sky started streaking with color over Atlanta. "Sit and talk or yell at me some more, I don't care. But either way, stop being weird with me." 

He didn't speak or move and you tried not to be annoyed. Instead, you stared at the sunrise as it spread, imagining how you'd paint it. On a wall, you'd stylize it, give it a comic-book appearance; make the colors bolder and thick black outlines around everything, even the changes of color in the sky. If you were sketching, it'd be in pastels, muted and blended, until it gave the whole scene a wistful, foggy overlay. If you had chalk, you'd focus on the color in the sky and leave the buildings slightly blurred, like an Impressionist painting. 

Shane sat down beside you and stared at his empty hands. 

"That's better," you told him. "I was running out of ways to capture the sunrise." 

He sighed. "Don't go running off like that again. Please."

The please got you, and you turned to look at him. "You look like shit, Dickhead." 

"Thanks. I'm serious. I lost one best friend, I can't lose another." 

"Shane, you won't lose me. I can take care of myself, damn it," you snapped, annoyance flaring again. "I'm fine, aren't I?"

He snorted, getting annoyed right back, and started to toss his hands in the air. He stopped the motion before it began and instead locked his hands together as his jaw worked. 

Heat flooded you again, thinking about how you'd reacted the day before. You'd jerked away from him when he gestured, an instinct to cower that you hadn't experienced since childhood flooding you when he was in your face and shot his arm past your ear to point behind you. You hated that you'd done that; hated that goddamn weakness.

You shoved a hand into your hair and scoffed. "So that's what this is. Don't do that, Shane. Don't. I'm not afraid of you. Just yell at me if you want to; I don't care." 

He laughed, short and harsh, and looked at you for the first time. There was something bitter and dark swirling in his eyes, that both scared you and made you feel oddly safe, as long as you were at his side. He shook his head as he gave a half-smile, half-sneer. 

"Sweetheart, that's the second time you've flinched away from me. Don't think I've forgotten about the first," he told you, voice tight and harsh and angry.

Mal was rocking tonight, and you hummed along to one of Grave Behavior's originals as you mixed the latest round of flaming shots. Jason slid up beside you and you flashed him a smile. 

"Gonna make good money tonight, baby," you said cheerfully. 

He laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Your boy's down at the end of the bar." 

"Huh?" you asked, craning your head to follow Jason's nod. You grinned when you saw Shane sliding onto the last stool, right by the POS computer. It'd become his spot, the seat where he could have the most chance of talking with you for a minute. Plus, it set his back to the wall, and you knew the cop in him liked that. 

He saw you look and lifted his fingers in a wave. He didn't look so good, you thought with a frown. You waved back and held up one finger, a hang on a sec gesture he returned with a dismissive one of his own. Then he leaned back against the wall, eyes shifting to Mal crooning onstage about 'color in a black and white world', the latest apology song he wrote for you. 

You were starting to get tired of the ups and downs, and last month you'd told him you were done. He cheated or broke up with you again, there wouldn't be any getting back together. So far, everything was good. Grave Behavior had signed a record deal, and Mal and the boys spent a lot of time in the studio over the past month. He was more stressed than usual, and you'd been arguing a lot, but he'd promised he'd do better and he had. You'd bought a few books on communication and you really felt like the two of you were making progress. 

You turned back as Shane shook his head a little when Mal extemporized a line about beautiful bartenders where it didn't fit, and you blew a kiss in the direction of the stage. People in the bar cheered as you turned back to the flaming shots and Mal finished the song to thunderous applause. 

"That's my muse back there, ladies and gentlemen; the color in my black and white world. Keep an eye out for Grave Behavior's upcoming album, Whiskey in a Champagne Glass," Mal said into the mic. "Hey, boys, you ready to rock? Let's make some noise!" 

He was working the crowd, you thought fondly, passing over the flaming shots. You made your way down the bar, a few stops requiring your attention, and over to Shane as the drums and guitar exploded from the stage. When you made it there, he gave you a tired smile. 

"Hey, Slugger. Didn't know he was on tonight, or I wouldn't have come," he said, leaning to talk practically into your ear so he could be heard. 

You shook your head, still embarrassed that you'd ever asked him to steer clear when Mal was playing. The arguments and... other stuff afterword had reached a level you just couldn't handle anymore, and something had to break. Shane had given you a look when you asked that you didn't recognize or like, but he'd agreed. "Don't worry about it. We're doing better. What's wrong?" 

"How you know I don't just want a drink?" He tried for his usual teasing sound, but it just wasn't there. 

You grabbed his hand. "Shane." 

He twinned his fingers through yours and scrubbed his other hand over his face. "It's nothin', Slugger. We'll talk about it tomorrow, if you aren't busy. Just had to get out and away. Knew you were working, so I came to see you." 

"I'm glad you did," you told him, and boosted across the bar to brush a kiss to his cheek. "Guess what?" 

"What?" he asked, his smile already more natural. 

"I'm going to make you that fucking impossible cocktail, that's what." 

He laughed, head back and eyes dancing. "Thought that was against live-music Saturday etiquette." 

"Not if I know how to make it, Dickhead," you shot back pleasantly. 

You talked to him in the spare time you could, and he informed you the drink was disgusting. You shrugged and told him that what he got for ordering off Google. The crowd thinned as it got later and later, and Mal started packing up the gear when you rang the bell and hollered "Last call, bitches; order it now or don't order it at all!"

The usual last call flurry of orders came in, you and Jason exchanged tired fist bumps as you passed each other, and you closed out tabs left and right. People trickled out until only a few die hards- and Shane- were left. Mal and the boys had finished breaking their shit down and were standing around talking, and you leaned over and shoved Shane's arm. 

"Go home, Deputy," you told him gently. "You're tired. Get some sleep and call me tomorrow, ok?" 

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I will. Thanks, Slugger," he added, grabbing your hand again as he stood. 

You squeezed his fingers. "Any time. Be careful, ok?" 

"You too. 'Night, sweetheart." 

"Night!" you called as he ducked out the front door. You headed for the back, shucking your apron and pulling your cigarettes out of the pocket as you went. 

Outside, you blew smoke and groaned, rolling your neck to stretch tired muscles and thinking about how fucking welcome your bed was going to be when you got home. The door creaked open and you glanced up, expecting Jason, and smiled when it was Mal. 

"Hey, babe. Good show tonight; you had the place hopping," you told him easily. He came down the steps slowly and you held your cigarettes up to him. "Want one?" 

"Are you kidding me right now?" he asked, and you looked up at his tone. 

"Well, I wasn't. But ok," you said warily, and dropped what was left of the cigarette, grinding it out as Mal glared. "What's wrong?" 

He scoffed. The buckle on his leather bracelet caught the security light and you got a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach you couldn't quite explain. "What's wrong? Your friend Shane was here." 

"Yeah," you said slowly. "He wanted a drink. What's your point?" 

"You kissed him. You were all over him while I was singing a song to you, and again before he left! Everyone saw!" Mal declared, gesturing wildly. 

You shifted as he paced so you could keep him in your sight. "Yeah, I kissed his cheek. He's my best friend, Mal. He'd had a rough shift. I wasn't all over him at any point." 

"Are you sleeping with him again?" Mal demanded, and you scooped a hand through your hair and settled in for a long fight. 

Turns out, it didn't take that long. You protested that no, you weren't sleeping with Shane. Mal's voice got louder and louder, he got up in your face, and you held your ground. 

"I don't want you seeing him again!" Mal finally yelled. "I can't have you cheating on me!" 

"Oh, but it's fine when you do it," you scoffed. 

Mal stepped back, hauled off, and slapped you across the cheek. Your head snapped to one side and you grunted against the stinging pain, then looked him in the eyes with your hand on your cheek. 

"You know what? That's it. We're done," you said firmly. "I'm done, Mal." 

"We aren't done until I say we are," he growled, and grabbed you by your shirt. He hauled you up, and you forced away the nausea rolling through you and got ready to punch the shit out of him, but he shoved you back and your feet went out from under you. 

Your head slammed into something and the world went dark. 

You didn't know how to respond to that, and Dale climbing up spared you from needing to. He eyed the two of you and muttered an apology for interrupting, but Shane waved him off. He stood and pulled you to your feet, heading for the ladder. 

You offered Dale a smile, chatted for a minute, and followed Shane down. 

He was loading empty water coolers into his Jeep for the water run, and you swung into the passenger seat and stared at him when he hesitated. He gave in, jumped in, and started the Jeep. 

"I'm not afraid of you," you repeated your words from earlier, but softer. "I'll never be afraid of you." 

Shane snorted. "Can't help who you're scared of, sweetheart. It's not about that." 

"Then what's it about?" You watched him stare at the road, hands tight on the wheel to match the tension in his jaw, in his eyes. 

He huffed out something that didn't really sound like a laugh and glanced at you. "You flinched, Slugger. You flinched away from me." 

You looked at him blankly, embarrassment creeping up and bringing heat to your face again. "I know." 

He was shaking his head and glaring out the windshield again, driving just a little too fast on the gravel road in his anger. He pulled to a hard stop at the water's edge, threw the Jeep in park, and rubbed his face with shaking hands. "That means you were expecting me to hit you. Oh, maybe not me," he snapped impatiently when you started to speak. "But you were expecting someone to hit you. How many fuckin' times did you get hurt because of me? Because I know the one was. And when I wrote my number on your hand. How much else, Slugger?" 

You shifted uncomfortably, not meeting his eyes now. "Some. It's fine, Shane. It's worth it." 

He shot out that harsh laugh again. "It's worth it? Ain't nothing worth that, especially not me." 

"What the hell are you talking about? You're my best friend," you said, starting to get a little annoyed again. No one, not even Shane, was going to tell you what was or wasn't worth a little pain. "I made all my own decisions, so don't try taking this on in some macho bullshit, Shane." 

"I picked you up off the ground and you were stone cold unconscious," he said quietly. "And I couldn't fuckin' believe what Jason was telling me. How did I miss it? How the fuck did I- Some cop I am." 

He slammed his hand into the steering wheel abruptly, and you were pleased when you didn't jump. You reached for him and he started to pull away. 

Fuck that, you thought. Fuck all of this. You scooted slightly in the seat and wrapped your arms around him. 

"Shit," he whispered, that raw voice you'd only heard from him a few times. Abruptly, he hauled you into his lap, pressing his face into your neck and locking his arms around you. "Shit, Slugger, Rick's alive and you were gettin' hurt right under my nose. I don't- I don't trust anything I do any more. He was dead; I knew that," Shane mumbled into your shoulder. 

You slid one hand into his hair, fingers moving along his scalp, and ran the other over his back. "Shane, come on. You did every damn thing you could." 

"Then how come he's alive? He's up there, alive. How come you were- fucking hell. No. No, I didn't-" he broke off, shoved back from your shoulder, and slammed his head back against the seat. "Damn it. You and Carl, looking at me like I'm a hero. Lori looks at me like I fuckin' lied to her about Rick. Rick looks at me, thanks me for taking care of them. Bullshit, of course I was going to- his family's my family. I would die for any of them. I'd die for him." 

You studied him, hand on his cheek now. "He knows that. I know that. What's going on?" 

His eyes closed, but he turned into your hand. "Shit. That ain't enough? Rick walking out of that truck, you running off alone. Didn't even tell me you were going. I thought I'd lost you too, along with six people I'd sent off into town. Sent all of them to their deaths and I was ok with that. I could tell Amy her sister knew the risks and we couldn't risk a rescue."

You shrugged. "We couldn't." 

He opened his eyes again, and his fingers crept up to play with the ends of your hair. "As soon as you were gone, risk didn't matter. I couldn't save Rick, and I was ready to run off and put his family in danger as soon as someone I gave a shit about was in trouble." 

"That's sweet, Dickhead, but I wasn't in trouble," you said dryly. "I feel the need to keep reiterating that point." 

"Shut up," he muttered, and leaned his forehead back on your shoulder. "You're not gettin' what I'm saying." 

"That's because you're not making any sense," you informed him. 

"You're not listening." 

"Am too," you protested. 

He started laughing against your shoulder, his whole body shaking with it until you started laughing along with him. He shook his head and looked at you, brushing your hair back with a roll of his eyes. "You're such a child sometimes, Slugger, I swear to God." 

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes, and he chuckled again. 

"Mature," he muttered, imitating your tone. "Don't go running off anymore. Please? I've got enough shit on my hands, girl, I can't- just don't." 

You sighed dramatically and kissed his cheek again. "Fine. But only if you stop treating me like I can't handle myself." 

He shoved his hand through his hair, shook his head, and eyed you with a smile playing lightly on his lips. "Fine. I'll try." 

"Good," you said firmly. "Let's get this water loaded up. And hey, Dickhead?" 

He glanced at you as you slid from his lap to the ground. "What?" 

You held his eyes, your own serious. "You did everything you could for Rick. I wasn't there, but I see your face. I hear your voice. You did everything. I don't know what's going on with Lori, and you probably should talk to her about it, but I know you. Rick does too. Don't take on guilt for things that aren't your fault." 

He shook his head, hands on his hips, and stared over the water. He glanced at you without moving his head. "Come here." 

You stepped toward him and he reached out, pulling you into another tight hug. Then he picked you up and hauled you into the water, where he dumped you in over your screamed protests. 

"Dickhead, I swear to God, if you- put me down, you asshole, or I'll- shit!"


	12. Lie #12: "You Don't Want To Tell Me, You Don't Have To" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentions/references to past child abuse  
mentions/references to domestic violence/abuse

Shane walked up to Rick's back door and opened it without knocking. "Hey!" he yelled, kicking off his shoes and adding them to the pile already there. Rick's boots, Lori's heels, Carl's sneakers, jumbled together with a couple pair of flip flops and some strappy sandal things he guessed were Lori's. 

And, he realized with a grin, a pair of his gym shoes that he'd been looking for forever. 

"In the living room!" Rick called and Shane grunted an acknowledgement. 

He went to Rick's fridge and pulled out a beer. From the living room, like he had super hearing, Shane heard 'grab me one too!' He chuckled and grabbed a second one, popping the top on his and taking a sip as he wandered into the living room. 

Rick was sprawled out on the couch, feet on the coffee table, and one of those Western movies he liked so damn much on the tv. He didn't look up as Shane walked in, holding up a hand for Shane to slap the can into on his way around the couch. Shane sat in the absurdly deep chair that he'd claimed minutes after the delivery guys had wrestled it in and gotten it positioned to Lori's satisfaction and propped his own feet up with a sigh, watching some John Wayne wannabe blow something up with wild impracticality on screen. 

"So I take it Lori's not here," he said when the wannabe was busy trying to seduce some poor woman. 

"Naw, she and Carl are at her mom's," Rick agreed. 

Shane grunted and Rick held out a bowl of popcorn. Shane took a handful, settled back in the chair, and kept one eye on the television. 

"Game starts at seven," he said. 

Rick nodded. "Ten more minutes left." 

"Cool." The wannabe tucked the woman under his arm and made an impossible shot with a revolver that shouldn't have worked, then swung on a rope Luke-and-Leia style across a broken bridge. Shane wondered why Rick wasn't watching Star Wars instead, because at least that was a decent movie and Han Solo was close enough to a cowboy Rick should have been satisfied, right?

"Stayin' here tonight?" 

Shane pulled out his phone to see if Ace had texted him back, and she had. 

\-- Can't talk. Mal's here. 

Shane grimaced at the phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "How much beer you got?" he asked Rick. 

Rick flashed him a grin. "Enough." 

Shane pulled a dripping, annoyed Ace out of the water and laughed as she glared at him. 

"Shit, Dickhead, if you didn't have that gun at your side, you would have been right the fuck in there with me," she snapped, stalking by him toward the Jeep. "You're hauling my wet ass back up there in your Jeep whether you like it or not, so who really loses here?" 

Shane shrugged and helped her grab one of the water coolers. "Sun'll dry it- and you- in no time." 

"You're such an asshole." 

"Yes. Yes, I am," he agreed with a wink. 

They both let the heavy shit drop and Shane was grateful. He'd needed to let some of it out, especially the parts about her, and he'd needed her to tell him she believed him about Rick. 

Because that look on Lori's face? Said she sure as hell didn't. And Shane had a sinking feeling that somehow, despite the fact that she'd been the one to come on to him, it was all going to end up Shane's fault. He'd told her Rick was dead, after all. So it must be his fault. 

He couldn't explain to Ace why he was so twisted up about that without explaining to Ace that he'd been fucking his best friend's wife in the woods for months now. Despite wanting to talk to her about it before, now? Shit. Shane would be fine if it never came up to anyone, ever. If he and Lori just pretended it never happened. 

Yeah, that was the way to go, he decided, as Ace bitched and helped him fill the water coolers. They'd just pretend it never happened. 

When they had everything full and she informed him that if he tossed her in again she was taking him with her, gun or no gun, he held up his hands and swore he was finished. She held her glare on him until he tucked his hands in his back pockets and retreated to lean on the Jeep, smirking at her. 

"You comin' or what, Ace? Thought I was giving you a ride no matter what the state of my vehicle after," he said when she didn't move. 

"You are. Shut up," she informed him, still eyeing him sideways. She decided he really was going to stay put, he guessed, because she up and yanked the wet tank over her head and started wringing first it and then her hair out. "I cannot believe you. Call me a fucking child. Throw me in the damn lake." 

She muttered a steady stream of bitched complaints and Shane just rolled his eyes. She glared over her shoulder at him when he laughed at one point. 

"You done? Put your damn shirt on and get in the Jeep," he said lazily. 

She scoffed. "No. Hang on, I want to wring my jeans out too." 

"Shit, girl, just get naked then." 

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you? Just wait, asshole. Remember what happened in our last prank war? Think the end of the world is going to make a difference? Not to me, sucker," she fired back at him hotly, glaring with her hands on her bare hips. The stone in her navel flashed and caught the sunlight and Shane snorted, shaking his head. 

"I think if you check the record, you'll find I won the last war, Slugger."

"Fuck you, Walsh," she told him. "Just stay over there and keep and eye out for anyone else." 

He scoffed but turned to lean on the hood and watch the path. "Thought you didn't give a shit, what with whipping your shirt off like that." 

"You've seen it before. Not everyone else has, and I don't want to be answering questions," she fired back. 

Yeah, Shane got that. He'd asked about the scar that ran down her back the first time he'd seen it- well, felt it- half-drunk and already half-naked at her place. He'd spun her around and pressed her up against the wall, his hands and his mouth cruising down her back as she writhed and gasped out his name, and he'd felt the long ridge of it in the dark. 

She'd tensed up and he'd stopped and asked her about it quietly. He might have been half-lit, but he felt the moment she'd gone from eager and trembling under his hands to closed off and waiting. She'd shrugged and said childhood accident, and Shane's cop radar had pricked up. But she'd turned back around, slid her fingers in his hair, and tugged his head toward hers. 

"You gonna get those hands back on me or what?" she'd asked, and Shane had laughed and obliged.

She still hadn't told him exactly what it was, but he'd deduced just enough to know to stop asking questions. She wanted to tell him, she would. So far she hadn't, and with the new information about Malcolm he was gaining, he was beginning to regret not pressing her a little harder. She and that fucking asshole had met in school, after all. 

"Hey, Slugger," he said after a beat. 

"God, Shane. I just said I don't want to answer questions," she said firmly, coming up to his side dressed again and frowning. 

He shook his head, scooped up his ball cap from the front seat, and fiddled with it to give his hands something to do. "Just- I don't pry, you know that. You don't want to tell me, you don't have to. Did he do that to you?" 

Her face shut down and she scoffed. "Mal? No. Shane, come on. Let's go." 

She swung into the Jeep and propped her foot on the dash, and Shane shoved the hat onto his head and wondered just how the hell he'd missed all these gaps in her story for so many years. 

She shook it off before they'd made it halfway up the path, talking to him about what she'd do to this one particular section of quarry wall if she just had a ladder and a bag of spray paint. He talked back and listened with half an ear, but he couldn't shake it off that well. 

Not what he'd missed when it came to her; not the fact that Rick was alive. She'd distracted him, down at the lake, but the closer they got to camp the more he realized he was going to have to face his friend again. 

He couldn't believe that man was alive, and Shane didn't know how to come to terms with it. 

He pulled into camp and parked, Ace hopping out and heading for her tent to get some dry clothes, rolling her eyes when Amy blinked at her and asked what happened. 

"Water's here y'all," Shane called as he got out. "Friendly reminder to boil before use." 

He nodded to Rick and Lori, eyes lingering on them in what he recognized from the last few months before it all went to shit as their 'having an argument without really arguing' posture. Shit, already? The man'd been back for one night. One. 

Shane pulled one of the jugs out and Ace swung out of the tent, dressed in dry clothes and carrying the damp ones. Shane shook his head a little when she tossed the damp shit over the line and he realized she'd made the damn tank by cutting the sleeves and half the sides out of an oversize tee shirt. Her and Daryl, he thought dryly. Couldn't have clothes like normal people to save their lives.

The scream pierced the air, followed by Carl's voice yelling 'Mom!', and Shane was on the move, shotgun in hand. 

He was first in the clearing, sending Carl and the other kids Lori's way, and he ground his teeth at the dead fucker eating the deer. Crossbow bolts sticking out of the thing's side said Dixon was close, which meant Shane was going to have that whole can of worms to deal with soon too. 

But first, the walker. 

It was alone, from what he could tell, and when it came at them the group of them started bashing it. Dale cut the thing's head off with the ax and they all stood around looking at it. 

"That's the first one we've had up here," Dale said. "They never come this far up the mountain." 

"Well, they're running out of food in the city," Jim said grimly. 

Shane ran a hand over his face and started stressing out about that, too. Goddamn it, the problems just kept coming. He glanced at Rick, found Rick looking at him, and he knew they were thinking the same thing- how do we keep these people alive? For a minute, Shane felt instant relief that his 'better half' was here and he had some fucking help. 

Twigs snapped in the trees and they all turned, weapons at the ready. Daryl came through, crossbow in hand, and glanced at all of them before seeing the deer. 

"Son of a bitch! That's my deer!" he snapped. 

Behind Shane, Ace snorted. "Not anymore it's not," she said, and Daryl shot her a look of pure annoyance. She was standing with her arms crossed, nose wrinkled as she looked at the walker and the deer. 

"Aww, look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-ridden, motherless poxy bastard!" Daryl continued, kicking the walker's body with each insult. 

Ace rolled her eyes dramatically as everyone else shifted and looked at each other. Rick was eyeing Daryl like he was a particularly unstable crackhead, and Shane couldn't prove entirely that he wasn't. Daryl was better than Merle, but he sure wasn't Ace. 

"Is insulting it's parentage helping?" Ace said dryly. "I'd like to point out that you and I are also motherless bastards, though as far as I know we're not disease ridden or poxy. You're pretty filthy though." 

A muted chuckle passed around those who knew her, Shane cracking a grin as well, but Daryl just flipped her off. 

"I been trackin' this deer for miles," he informed her, yanking bolts from its side. "Was gonna drag it back to camp. Cook us up some venison. What do you think, think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?" 

He wasn't talking to anyone but Ace, and she made a gagging sound that had him glaring at her. 

"I would not risk that," Shane said calmly.

Daryl glanced at him. "That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel, maybe a dozen or so," he offered, and Shane was reminded that Daryl really was a decent asshole, sharing anything he managed to scrounge up with the kids first and everyone else second. "That'll have to do." 

He turned to walk over to Ace, who met Shane's eyes and bit her lip before glancing down. Her nose wrinkled again. 

"Daryl-" she said, gesturing, and Shane looked down at the walker's head. 

Its eyes had popped open and it opened and closed its mouth, still looking for food despite being separated from it's body. 

"Come on, people, what the hell?" Daryl asked, annoyance back in his tone. He whipped up the crossbow and shot it right in the eye, then set his foot on the head to pry the bolt back out. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothin'? C'mon, Ace, you know better than that." 

"Why are you blaming me? I didn't do it!" she protested. She followed him after giving Shane an agonized look as he headed toward camp. 

"Daryl-" she started, but he was already yelling for Merle. 

"Hey, Merle. Get your ugly mug out here, we gotta skin us some squirrel. Ace, where's your asshole brother?" Daryl called, setting his crossbow down outside their tent. 

"Daryl, shut up and stop for a minute!" she snapped, and he looked at her and straightened slowly. 

Shane set his shotgun back in his Jeep and came up behind her as she shoved her hair back and scuffed the ground with one foot. Daryl's eyes met Shane's and narrowed, looking past him to the others gathering around slowly. He lingered on Rick, glanced back at Shane, and took a couple steps closer to Ace. 

"What's goin' on, sis?" he asked. 

Ace sighed. "We need to talk." 

"About what?" he snapped. 

Ace glanced around as well. "Want to do it privately?" she suggested. 

Daryl's eyes narrowed and he stepped toward her again, into her space. Shane was heading toward her when Dixon's eyes shot to him and flashed. 

"Back the hell off, Shane. I ain't gonna take a swing at my fuckin' sister, no matter what happened to Merle," Daryl snapped. 

Ace tossed her hands in the air and groaned. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. Daryl, Merle's not here." 

"Yeah, I've gathered that. Where the fuck is he?"

"Atlanta," she said calmly. 

Daryl stared at her and then at Shane, shoving past her and stalking toward him. Shane straightened up and stepped to meet him, running a hand down Ace's arm when she followed Daryl to Shane. 

"He dead?" Daryl asked. 

"We're not sure," Shane answered before Ace could. No need for her to do this all on her own. 

All eyes were on them as Daryl's expression became incredulous. "He either is or he ain't!" 

"It's not that simple, Dar," Ace started to say. "There was an incident, and-" 

"Ace, damn it!" Daryl shouted, and Ace glared at him. 

"Don't yell at me, damn it!" she snapped. "I'm tryin' to talk to you!" 

"Then fuckin' talk!"

"Hey-" Shane started, shifting in front of her, and Ace shoved him aside irritably. 

"Oh for shit's sake, Shane. He's not gonna hurt me, damn it. Daryl, can you just calm down? You're freaking everyone out and we really should have this conversation in private-" she said, gesturing toward their tent. 

"Tell me!" Daryl roared, getting into her face again. 

Shane didn't care what she said, he was tired of that shit, and he put a hand up to get Daryl to back the hell off. Daryl rounded on him, Shane got ready for a yelling match or a fist fight, either one, and Rick's voice cut through the brewing storm. 

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it," Rick said, walking up to join Shane and Ace. 

"Who are you?" Daryl snapped. 

"Rick Grimes." 

"Well, Rick Grimes. You got something you wanna tell me?" 

"Daryl, please," Ace muttered, sounding exhausted. 

Rick set his hand on her shoulder and Daryl's eyes narrowed at the gesture. Shane could appreciate the protectiveness there, but he watched Daryl closely. 

"Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him to a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there," Rick said bluntly. 

Daryl stared, then turned, running a hand over his face. "Hold on. Let me- let me process this," he said, taking two steps away. 

That was almost exactly what Ace had said, and Shane looked at her from the corner of his eye. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach and was watching Daryl with a pained intensity in her eyes. 

"You handcuffed my brother to a roof... and then you left him there?" Daryl finished at a yell. 

"Dar-" she started, taking a half step forward. 

"Yeah," Rick said over her, grabbing her elbow to hold her back. 

She shot Rick a look, wrenched her elbow from his grip, and Daryl launched his string of squirrels Rick's way. 

"Seriously, Daryl, the squirrels?" Ace yelled, which Shane found hilarious even as he tackled Daryl from the side when he went at Rick. 

Ace tossed her hands in the air again and mumbled something Shane didn't catch, because Dixon yanked the knife from his belt and came up swinging. 

"Oh for fuck's-" Ace started, taking a step toward them. 

"Get back!" Shane snapped at her, and brought Daryl down in a choke hold as Rick got the knife from him.

"Best let me go!" Daryl yelled. 

"Naw, think it's better if I don't," Shane said easily. 

"Damn it, Daryl. Shane, choke hold's illegal," Ace snapped from the side, and Shane glanced up at her with a grin. 

"Yeah, you can file a complaint," he muttered. 

She rolled her eyes at him as Daryl glared liberally at all three of them. Rick dropped to a squat in front of Daryl and gave him that look that convinced people to do what he wanted. 

"I'd like to have a rational conversation about this. Do you think you can manage that?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Seriously, Daryl, don't make me fight you too," Ace said. "Hear us out, would you?" 

Daryl glanced up at her and nodded once. Shane let him go and Ace shot him a look and muttered that they'd be having a conversation later as well, and Shane winced. Yeah, she might not like Daryl's blind devotion to Merle, but she sure had some of that same damn Dixon loyalty flowing through her veins. 

She held out a hand to Daryl and he looked at it for long enough that Shane was about to tell him not to be an asshole, but he let her pull him up. She kept his hand in hers and looked him in the eyes. 

"Merle was being a dick. He put them all in danger because he was high. Rick handcuffed him and left to draw the walkers away, to get everyone out. T Dog had the key, which was appropriate since Merle pulled a Will," she said, and gave Daryl a significant look. 

Shane had no idea what that meant and he was going to ask later, but since he knew Merle had gone racist and then pounded the shit out of T Dog, he decided to extrapolate. Daryl ran a hand over his eyes and grimaced, glancing at T. 

"I dropped the key," T Dog said, meeting Daryl's eyes. 

"What, you couldn't pick it up again?" 

"It went down the drain," T said simply. 

Daryl looked away. "Shit." 

"But I chained the door. Walkers couldn't get to him. I'm sure of it," T Dog continued. 

Daryl's eyes shot to T Dog and then to Rick, and he dropped Ace's hand and stalked toward Rick and Shane. "Tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im." 

Lori spoke up suddenly, and her voice had that edge that made Shane tense, because it usually meant they were about to argue. "He'll show you. Isn't that right?" 

Shane glanced at Rick, but Rick's eyes were fixed on Lori. "I'm going back," Rick said. 

At the same time, Shane and Daryl both turned, pointed at Ace, and declared, "No!" 

Ace's jaw dropped as someone behind Shane laughed, her eyes narrowing. "Why the fuck not? He's my brother too!"


	13. Lie #13: "It Ain't Like That" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic violence/abuse

Daryl and Ace were in their tent having a 'private' discussion at top volume about her going on the rescue mission. Shane kept an eye on their tent and an ear out, because about two minutes in Ace's voice took on the same Southern white trash accent both her brothers used and Shane had only caught a few glimpses of when she was really pissed off. 

Seemed like today, she was really pissed off, he thought with amusement as her furious voice carried to him, calling Daryl a sexist chauvinistic asshole just like his brother. Daryl's rebuttal was drowned out by nature of her just talking over him, and Shane found himself grinning. 

That was his Slugger, he thought. Not the one who flinched away when Shane moved too fast, that was someone he didn't know. 

That thought pissed him off all over again, and he shoved his hand through his hair and headed in the direction of Rick's tent. 

Rick came out buttoning his uniform shirt, because of course Rick fucking Grimes had somehow held onto a King County Sheriff's department uniform at the end of the world and despite waking up in a hospital gown. He even had his fucking badge. The only thing missing was the goddamn hat, Shane thought grumpily. 

Shane, in comparison, had a short sleeve button up too big for him and someone else's pants, because he'd been more concerned with grabbing Lori and Carl than stopping to get his own clothes. That was uncharitable, he supposed, since he had two department-logo t shirts and one pair of jeans all currently needing to washed, but he was just pissed enough not to care. 

"So that's it, huh?" he said when Rick reached him. "You're just gonna walk off? Just to hell with everybody else?" 

"I'm not saying to hell with anybody," Rick said softly, looking at him like maybe he knew something wasn't right. Like maybe he thought after all that Shane hadn't done his best to get him out of there. "Not you, Shane; Lori least of all." 

"Tell her that," Shane snapped at him, lashing out because he didn't know how to tell Rick he was sorry. 

Rick gave him that look he got when Shane was being an asshole, and just said "she knows."

Yeah, Shane wasn't too damn sure about that, though he figured Rick was right about the asshole thing. So he tried again, because this was his best friend, damn it, and they'd always been able to talk to each other. End of the damn world and Rick's resurrection act shouldn't change that, right? 

"Well, look, I- I don't, ok Rick? So could you just- could you throw me a bone here, man?" Rick was striding off back toward the RV and Shane followed him, like Shane followed Rick everywhere. "Could you just tell me why? Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey, choose your words more carefully," Daryl said, and Shane glanced over to see him looking annoyed and Ace nowhere to be found. 

"No, I did. Douche bag's what I meant," Shane informed Daryl snidely. "Merle Dixon. Guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin' of thirst," he snarled to Rick. 

"He's your girlfriend's brother," Amy said from the sidelines, eyes wide. 

Daryl snorted and Shane didn't look away from Rick as he answered that. "Slugger's not my girlfriend. Don't matter; she'd agree with me." 

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," Rick said in that infuriatingly reasonable way he had. "I can't let a man die of thirst. Me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap; that's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being." 

Shane got that, he really did. And when Rick got that look in his eyes, that tone in his voice, it was all damn well over. 

"So you and Daryl, that's your big plan?" Lori said from the fire. 

Rick turned and looked at Glenn, and Shane's anger rocketed up again when the kid groaned but eventually agreed. 

"That's just great. Now you're gonna risk three men, huh?" Shane said, and his day just kept getting better when T Dog volunteered as well. 

"And me," Ace's voice came, hot and sharp. Shane closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face as she brushed by him, ready to protest. 

He didn't have to. Daryl pointed at her with one of his fucking crossbow bolts. "No. Sit down, sis, we covered this." 

"You covered it," she shot back. "I didn't agree to nothin', ass for brains." 

Daryl's snort conveyed exactly what he thought of that, not bothering to look at her. 

"Daryl's right, Slugger. You shouldn't go," Shane told her, and she whirled on him, eyes flashing. 

He held up a hand for peace. "Not because I think you can't take care of yourself, but because nobody should be going. Least of all five of our people. We thought we'd lost six people yesterday and we were worried, now you think five of you should go running off?" he added in a low voice to her. 

She crossed her arms and gave him her own version of Rick's stubborn bastard look, and once again Shane wondered if they'd been hanging out before the end of the world and he didn't know it. He sighed, stepped closer to her, and put his hand on her face. He pitched his voice so only she could hear, looking her dead in the eyes so she would see he was serious. "Slugger, please. Rick's gonna go and I can't stop him. Please. Stay here. For me." 

She held his look with such a conflicted expression Shane felt a thousand times less than dirt for asking it of her, but he meant it. He couldn't watch both his best friends drive away from him, and he couldn't go with them. He wasn't going to get through to Rick, but maybe, just maybe, he could get through to her.

Her eyes dropped and she turned her head slightly to kiss his palm. "Fuck you, Dickhead," she said softly. "Fine! You win. I'll stay." 

"Thank you," he told her, sweeping his thumb across her cheek before turning his attention back to Rick. "It's not just four men. You're putting every single one of us at risk. You saw that walker. It was here. It was in camp. They're movin' out of the cities. If they come back, we need every able body we've got." It was a last-ditch effort, a selfish one, to keep Rick here too. Sure, it was sacrificing Ace's brother, but he knew Ace herself would agree with him there. Merle wasn't worth it. 

"Seems to me like what you really need most here are more guns," Rick said, and Shane blinked at him. 

Rick had cleaned out the cage, and he needed one of their walkies- their shit station walkies- to get in touch with a man and boy he met who'd saved his life. Shane knew when he'd lost a battle, and he gave up after that. 

Rick went to Dale for bolt cutters, Ace was talking to Daryl in a low voice and with a worried expression, and Shane had a thought. 

"Hey Rick, got any rounds in the Python?" he asked as Daryl blared the horn impatiently. Ace grabbed his arm and said something to him that sounded like 'stop being an asshole', and Shane dropped his gear bag on the tail of the cube van. 

"No," Rick admitted, and Shane gave him a crooked smile. 

"Last time we were on the gun range, I'm sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours," he said. 

Rick laughed. "You and that bag- like the bottom of an old lady's purse." 

Ace dropped down out of the back of the van with a short laugh. "Shit. That's exactly what it is. He found me a Sharpie in there a while ago." 

"Did you do that drawing, one on the sheet? The sketches of everyone?" Rick asked. Shane shook his head as he dug around in the bag, embarrassed all over again by that shit. "With Super Shane?" 

She laughed again. "I did. Super Shane was Carl's idea, but I think it was a good one. I mean, he's got the complex, and look what he did with these people." 

Shane muttered at her to stop it, but Rick clapped him on the shoulder. "She's right, brother. Super Shane. I like it. Ace. I can't tell you how glad I am to finally meet you." 

She shifted, running a hand threw her hair. "Yeah, same here, Rick. I've heard a lot about you. Saw you a couple times- once at the bar, once at the PD." 

Shane looked at her. "You saw Rick at the PD?" 

"Saw you both at the PD, Dickhead; how'd you think I knew you were a cop without you telling me?" she said with a roll of her eyes. 

"Huh. Didn't see you," Shane said, confused. "Why didn't you say hi?" 

She gave him a look like he was insane. "Because you were just the Obscure Cocktail Dickhead I'd put in his place at the bar a few nights before and I was picking up my asshole brother from the drunk tank? Speaking of," she focused back on Rick, who looked at both of them with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

Shane found four of Rick's rounds and that seemed like all he was going to come up with as she stepped around him to stand in front of Rick squarely. 

"I like you, Rick. And Merle's an asshole, I know. But he's my brother, and I give a couple shits about him. Also, don't lose Daryl, ok? Watch his ass and he'll watch yours," she told Rick firmly. 

Rick glanced at Shane with a look that said 'I see why you like her' before he met Ace's gaze and held out a hand. "I like you too. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, when we get back. When we all get back," he added, with subtle emphasis on the all. 

Ace smiled, nodded, and shook his hand. "Sounds like a plan then, Deputy." 

Shane sighed as she walked toward the Dixon tent, dropping down into a camp chair and scooping up her sketchbook. He looked at Rick and found Rick watching him. "Stop it," he muttered. 

Rick chuckled. "I didn't say anything." 

"It ain't like that; I've told you," Shane insisted, then changed the subject before Rick could press. "I hate that you're doin' this, man." 

"Even though it's her brother?" Rick asked. 

"Her brother, the guns, some other guy and his little boy- even with all of that, I hate this. I think that it's- it's foolish and reckless. But if you're gonna go, you're taking bullets," he insisted. 

"Not sure I'd want to fire a shot in the city, not after what happened last time." 

"That's up to you. Four men, four rounds. What are the odds, huh?" Shane said, cold weight settling in his gut. "Let's just hope that four's your lucky number." 

Rick took the bullets and Shane held his gaze for another of their wordless conversations. Yes, he'd watch out for Carl and Lori, he told Rick. Rick told him right back that he'd be careful and keep up with Ace's brothers. 

"Thank you," Rick said when Shane nodded once. Shane clapped him on the shoulder, Rick hopped in the passenger seat, and they were gone. 

He stared after them and looked over at where Ace very pointedly wasn't watching. He headed over to her side and stood at her shoulder, looking at the sketchbook. Her pencil was in her hand, but she wasn't drawing anything. A half-finished sketch of Shane himself was on the page, shotgun on his shoulder and staring into the distance.

"Ain't half-bad, Slugger," he said quietly.

She jumped and slammed the sketchbook closed, blinking up at him like she'd been a million miles away. The fainest hint of a blush rose on her cheeks, and Shane gave her an amused look. 

"What, getting shy about it now? I've seen half a dozen sketches of me in there, girl. Got a crush on me or something?" he teased. She rolled her eyes and shot him a look. 

"Don't flatter yourself, asshole. Just didn't know you were there, that's all," she muttered. "They gone?" 

"Mmhhmm," he said as she rose and tossed the sketchbook back down. "You ok?" 

She smiled brightly at him, but he saw right through that bullshit to the worry beneath, and he felt guilt stir again. He'd asked her to stay for him, so he didn't have to watch them both leave. It suddenly dawned on him that she'd sent one brother off and he hadn't come back, and now she'd sent the other one after him. 

"Sure. I'm good, Dickhead. I'm going to help with laundry, I guess," she said with nod toward where Carol, Jaqui, Andrea, and Amy were loading up to head to the quarry. "Since no one will let me do any real work around here." 

Shane watched her go and wondered how many times she'd lied to him that easily and he hadn't noticed.

Shane found Carl, sitting forlornly by the fire. Shane grabbed a bucket and a net, and called Carl to come with him. The kid perked up and he chattered to Shane on the way down, and Shane thought yeah. This was the right call. 

When they weren't getting anything, Shane sighed and decided it was time to play it silly. He waded out into the water, giving Carl some speech about him being the key in all of it, and then made the biggest, loudest damn fool of himself in the water that he could. He was soaked head to toe, splashing Carl and half-singing about catching frogs, and he just knew Ace was busting a gut behind him from afar. 

He and Carl gave up after a few tries, but now the kid was laughing and smiling. Shane leaned on a rock beside him, mid-lament about those wily green bastards, when Lori walked up. 

"Hey Carl. What did I tell you about not leaving Dale's sight?" she asked. 

"But Shane said we could catch frogs, remember?" Carl protested. 

"It doesn't matter what Shane says. It matters what I say," Lori informed him. "Go on back to camp." 

Carl's shoulders slumped and he glanced at Shane, and Shane felt that anger stir in his gut. He nodded Carl along and Lori said she'd be right behind him, and Shane sighed and got ready to face the damn music. 

Lori turned without speaking to him, just giving him that look like he'd tried to snatch her son out from under her nose- and just where the hell had she been, huh?- and the next thing he knew, Shane opened his damn mouth. 

"I gotta tell you, I do not think you should be taking this out on him," he said. 

"You don't tell me what to do. You lost that privilege," she snapped, walking away from him. 

All Shane could think was when had he ever been able to tell her what to do and have her listen to him? "Lori, could you just wait up a second?" he asked instead, chasing after her in his bare damn feet. "I think we should talk. We haven't had a chance-" 

"No. No, no," she cut him off. "That's over too. You can tell that to the frogs." 

Shane sighed, but he was getting pissed off now. "Look, I don't know how it appears to you, or what you think is-" 

"How it appears to me?" she cut him off again. 

Goddamn, why wouldn't the woman let him finish a sentence? 

"I'm sorry, is there a gray area here? Let me dispel it. You stay away from me. You stay away from my son. You don't look at him. You don't talk to him. From now on, my family is off-limits to you." 

Shane had never had a heart attack, but it might have hurt less than those words. Shane had always been part of her family. He was Uncle Shane, damn it. He had a room at their house, his shit in their drawers. Lori kept a bag of his favorite brand of coffee in her freezer, despite the fact that Rick wouldn't have cared if they drank pig swill and she hated the stuff. He was her family- at least, he always had been. 

"Lori, I don't think that's fair," was all he could say in response; all he could get out of the swirl of pain in his chest. 

He'd done his best. He'd kept them safe. He'd tried to get Rick out but Rick had been dead, goddamn it.

Lori strode toward him as he tried to say something, anything, to make her understand that, her hands slamming into his chest. "Shane, shut up. Don't! My husband is back. He is alive." 

Shane looked away from her, because how could she think this was about her? She think he wanted to fuck her in dark corners and lie to everyone about it and pretend like nothing was happening in the light of day, so badly that he'd- he'd pretend his partner, his best friend since they were Carl's fucking age, had died? So he could run off with his wife and kid? She'd come to him, damn it. "He is my best friend. Do you think that I'm not happy about that?" 

"How dare you? Why would you be? You are the one that told me that he died!" 

"He did! He did die," Shane said. "Lori, I-" 

"You son of a bitch," she mumbled, turning and walking away. 

He watched her go, hands on his hips and trying to control the anger and the hurt, but it was no use. Finally he scooped up his boots and his socks, pulling them on roughly before grabbing the bucket and net he'd brought down with Carl. 

He was two steps up the path when he heard Ace's voice, rising pissed as hell from where the ladies had been washing clothes. He turned, hearing a hint of fear in her voice that made his blood run cold, and found her nose to nose with Ed. The bastard had a cigarette in his lips and a fist clenched so tightly Shane could see it from where he was, and where he was was too damn far away. 

Shane started running.

"Shane!" 

He turned on his way out, smiling at Julie. The pretty blonde waitress who'd taken care of him and Rick the first night he was there had remembered him the next time he came in, and after a few weeks of him showing up at least once a weekend, she'd slipped him her number with his check. 

He'd used it, they'd had a couple of pleasant evenings, and they'd both agreed it was nice but they were satisfied. He leaned against the wall as she came over, waving a couple of the other departing staff onto their cars. 

"Have a good night?" she asked, pulling the bands out of the ends of the braids she wore in her hair and combing them out with her fingers. 

"Yeah, that asshole wasn't playin' too bad," Shane said with a shrug. 

Julie snorted and rolled her eyes. "Mal's a jerk sometimes, but he can play. They're making a record now, you know." 

"I know," Shane agreed. He could feel himself getting annoyed again, talking about Mal. "How about you? Everybody treat you right?" 

Julie laughed. "Hell yeah. We rocked tonight. Might have made enough to finish paying off that trip out to Busch Gardens with my baby girl for her birthday." 

"Aww, shit. She's gonna be what? Eight, right?" he said, smiling. Julie's daughter was a sweetheart. Ellie and Ben had let Julie bring her to work one day when she had no babysitter and Shane had happened to be there. Sarah- Julie's girl- had sat next to Shane at the counter with her homework, a paperback Shane thought was way too thick for such a little thing, and her adorable round glasses, completely silent until Slugger had come over. Slugger'd pulled out her sketchbook and done a quick cartoon sketch of the little girl and gotten her to open up and share a brilliant, dimpled smile. Shane ended up helping her with her homework and hearing all about some bully she'd been having a problem with. He'd told Julie, who'd been more damn grateful than Shane thought his casual advice really warranted. 

"That's right," Julie agreed. "I flagged you down because she wanted me to tell you. That girl? The one who was giving her trouble?" 

Shane rolled his eyes. "Shit, that ain't stopped yet? Should I-" 

Julie laughed, waving him off. "No, no. She did exactly what you told her, and it worked. She wanted me to tell you thank you, and she made a card for you but I don't have it with me at the moment. I'll get it for you next-"

Shane glanced over as the van that asshole drove went peeling out of the lot, spraying gravel, and scoffed. "Dick. What were you-" 

"Holy fuck! Help! Help!" 

Shane snapped at Julie to go back inside and ran for the staff exit, reaching at his side for his gun. Of course he didn't have it, he thought disgustedly at himself; he'd been in a bar. He skidded around the corner and froze, his stomach rolling and his world tilting on its axis. 

Slugger lay on the ground, eyes closed, face pale under the blood flowing from her head. 

Shane didn't remember hitting his knees; didn't remember scooping her up. He didn't remember stripping off the flannel he wore unbuttoned over a tee shirt and pressing it to the gash in her head, or checking her pulse and her breathing like the fucking professional he was. 

He did remember the way his hands shook; and how her blood looked on his fingers. He remembered how fucking fragile she was, one cheek red and bloodied and the other slowly forming a palm-shaped bruise as he watched; and the thudding of his pulse in his ears at the moment he put that asshole's truck peeling out together with her bleeding on the ground.

"Should I call 911?" Jason asked, worry and panic in his tone. 

"Don't bother. I'm faster," Shane said grimly, rising with her cradled against him. 

She was boneless, dead weight in his arms with her head falling onto his shoulder. Shane didn't know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, but he knew one thing. 

Malcolm fucking Hall was a dead man.


	14. Lie #14: "Maybe It Won't Be That Bad" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic violence/abuse  
past child abuse  
derogatory language toward women

You almost changed your mind when you saw Ed leaning against the Bronco the women were loading clothes into, but surely the asshole wasn't going to come down and do laundry, right? Men like Ed never did laundry. 

He came, though, and stood smoking and leaning on the tailgate while the rest of you hauled the tubs of clothes and sheets down to the water and started scrubbing. 

You were so caught up in Ed's looming presence you hadn't noticed Shane and Carl until Shane started making the biggest fucking racket in the world, splashing and yelling about frogs and getting as soaked in the lake as you'd been when he tossed you in that morning. 

Bastard, you thought fondly as you watched Carl grin and laugh at whatever the hell Shane thought he was doing. 

"I'm beginning to question the division of labor here," Jaqui said dryly. 

You snorted. "Normally I'd agree with you, but Shane works his ass off for us," you said, taking a seat between Carol and Amy. 

Amy looked over at you with a smile. "Shane works for some of us more than others," she said in a teasing tone that had you rolling your eyes. 

"Ok, no. Don't even start," you told her. Carol handed you a shirt and a bar of soap, and you started scrubbing. All of the women were looking at you now, and you felt the heat rising on your cheeks. 

"Merle, ah- insinuated that the two of you might have had a physical relationship," Andrea said. 

You shot her a bland look. "You were a lawyer, weren't you?" 

Everyone laughed and you moved on to the next shirt. With the King County Sheriff's logo on it, you figured it had to be Shane's. He still needed to pay for dumping you in the lake, and your eyes narrowed on the shirt as you thought and scrubbed. 

"That didn't answer her question, though," Amy pressed. 

"She didn't ask a question," you pointed out, and Amy sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. 

"Are you and Shane together? Did you two have sex in a bar?" 

"Amy!" Andrea admonished, but then she looked at you when you groaned. "Well, did you?" 

"Oh Jesus," you muttered, knowing your face was flaming now. "No. I mean, yes. We had sex. Once, and not in a bar. In my apartment. After I got off work.... at the bar. We decided we'd be better as friends," you continued before any of them could make any comments. "Which is what we are. So no, we're not together. That complete doofus over there is my best friend, that's all."

Shane chose that moment to collapse face first into the water and you shook your head at him as Carl howled. 

"Can someone explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?" Jaqui asked with a shake of her head. 

"The world ended," Amy pointed out. "Didn't you get the memo?" 

Carol glanced over her shoulder at Ed. "It's just the way it is." 

"Yeah, I've never been a big believer in 'the way it is'," you said with a grimace. "And yet somehow, here I am." 

\-- Heyyyy SLugger. U uop? 

You squinted at your phone, the light bright in the darkness of one am on your night off. You angled it down, hanging half-off the bed to keep the light from waking Malcolm up. "Jesus, Shane," you mumbled at the typos. 

Someone was drunk, you thought. You darkened the screen and unplugged your phone, sliding out of bed and heading for your living room so you could reply without Mal waking up or you falling off the bed and onto your head. 

\-- Hey, Dickhead. How drunk are you? Say 'inebriated'.

You ducked into the bathroom while you waited for a response, using the light from your phone to check yourself over. Mal'd been energetic a few hours ago, and things hurt that weren't necessarily supposed to. You grimaced; sure enough, you had some scratches, some bruises. 

It wasn't that you were opposed to getting marked up during sex; you just wanted a say in it first, that's all. Your phone buzzed again before you had to think about that too damn hard, and you were pretty damn ok with the distraction.

\-- Csnt say anyting over txts. Prettty drunk tho lol

Lol? Shane didn't lol, you thought, amused.

\-- If this is a booty call, you've got the wrong number, Walsh. Try 'B' in your phone, for 'Bimbo'. I'm sure you've got at least one saved in there still.

You headed out of the bathroom to the kitchen, standing at the sink with a glass of water and your eyes closed. Your phone buzzed again and you glanced down at it. 

\-- misss you, Axe 

Axe was amusing, and a hell of a lot better of a nickname than Ace, in your opinion. You sighed, rubbing a tired hand over your eyes. Shit, you missed him too. It'd been a month or so since you'd spoken, longer than that since you'd seen him. Your timing just hadn't been right; either he was working or you were, or Mal was around when Shane could talk. It sucked, but it was just easier to not talk to Shane when Mal was there. 

And Mal was always fucking there, you thought with a roll of your eyes. You glanced at your bedroom door, partly open, and stepped out into the hallway of your building, sliding down to sit with your back against the wall just outside. 

You hit the button to call the deputy, smiling at the picture you'd saved as his contact. He was asleep- sacked out on your couch- and you'd taken advantage of that to continue your prank war. 

You'd managed to paint an entire sheriff's star on his forehead, complete with script proclaiming King County. How in the hell he'd slept through that, you did not know. Especially with the way you were trying not to laugh the whole fucking time. 

You set the phone to your ear and waited for him to pick up. 

"Hey, Slugger!" Shane half-yelled, the hey taking seventeen more syllables that the word usually had and your name slurred almost beyond recognition. 

"Jesus, Dickhead. Put down the booze; drink some water," you told him. "Call a cab. What the hell are you doing?" 

"Aww, jus' havin' a few drinks at home." 

"A few?" you muttered. 

He laughed. "Aight, more'n a few. Where you been lately?" 

You sighed and picked at one of the scratches you could see where your tank had ridden up. "Just busy, that's all. You sure you're ok?" 

"I'm good, sweetheart! Fin'lly have a damn day off tomorrow. Carl's got some- some shitty Little League game." 

"You going?" You couldn't picture him sitting on the sidelines at Little League with the hangover he was going to have, but he did love that kid. 

"Hells yeah. I miss you, Slugger. Hey, you should come!" His tone brightened at the end, like he'd just had the best idea in the world, and you couldn't help but smile at the enthusiasm. 

"Yeah, I don't think the first time I meet your family should be while you're hungover as fuck," you told him dryly. "You are going to be hurting in the morning, Walsh. Drink some water and take some aspirin, ok?" 

"Wha', don' you miss me too?" 

You closed your eyes, head tipped back against the wall. "Of course I do, asshole. I can't come to King County tomorrow, though." 

"Why the fuck not? That douchebag not want you to have friends besides him?" Shane's tone shifted abruptly from wheedling to angry, and you clenched one hand into a fist. 

"Shane, you're drunk and it's the middle of the night. I don't want to fight with you, please," you said softly. "I can't come because I've got a meeting at the gallery in the morning and I work tomorrow night. We'll hang out soon, ok? Hey, I've got to go. I'm serious about the aspirin and the water, Dickhead. Trust me, I'm a professional." 

Shane was quiet, then sighed loudly. "Yeah, you're prob'bly right, Slugger. I gotta- shit, I gotta go to bed. I'll talk to you later, girl. Hang out soon?" 

"Yeah, soon. Promise." 

"Hold ya to that. Love you, Ace." 

You pulled the phone away from your ear to stare at it, wondering where the hell that had come from. By the time you put it back to respond, he'd hung up. You shook your head, chalked it up to the level of drunk that man had achieved, and headed back inside to get some sleep. 

"I do miss my Maytag," Carol said after a pause. 

The glorious frog hunters had settled down some, and you glanced over to see Shane leaning on a rock beside the kid while he gestured and talked. You were smiling as you shook out a pair of jeans and handed them off to Jaqui to hang. 

"I miss my Benz. My sat nav." Andrea agreed. 

"I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built in grinder, honey," Jaqui said. 

"Mmm," you agreed. "I miss top shelf tequila, triple sec, lime juice, agave nectar, and ice. All whipped up in my industrial-strength blender behind the bar and served in a salt-rimmed glass with a slice of lime in the air conditioning. Only I want to be the one drinking it, not the one serving it for once." 

The women laughed in agreement with that one and Amy sighed. 

"My computer. And texting," she agreed. 

"I miss my vibrator," Andrea declared. 

"Oh hell yes," you said with feeling, pointing down to her. She winked at you and you grinned as Jaqui laughed and Amy mumbled 'oh my god'. 

Carol glanced over her shoulder at Ed, then down at the two of you. "Me too," she said softly, and everyone, including you, cracked up. 

"What's so funny?" Ed's voice came from behind you. 

Your shoulders went tight and you noticed Carol's did as well. You glanced at her and then over your shoulder, where Ed had wandered down to within listening range. Your stomach lurched and started to sink, but you ignored it and forced yourself to keep working. 

"Just swapping war stories, Ed," Andrea called casually. 

Everyone exchanged looks in silence when Ed walked closer, positioning himself right behind Carol. The sinking feeling got stronger, and you tried to catch Andrea's eye and warn her off. She didn't notice, turning to him with an annoyed look and boldly asking him if he had a problem. 

"Nothin' that concerns you," Ed snapped. He pointed his cigarette at Carol and leaned over her. "And you out to focus on your work. This ain't no comedy club." 

Andrea scoffed, but Carol had already turned back to the washboard, shoulders hunched. You waited until Ed wandered a couple steps away and leaned over to snag another pair of jeans, brushing your hand against Carol's as you did. She glanced at you, startled, before offering you a hint of a smile. You nodded, telling her you were here but you wouldn't push. 

Andrea rose with a huffed breath and you rose too, reaching for her with semi-panicked hands. 

"Ed, tell you what. You don't like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself," she told him, and tossed the shirt in her hands his way. "Here." 

He flung it back so it hit her square in the face. "Ain't my job, missy." 

"Andrea," you said, grabbing her arm. She shook you off, despite your warning shake of your head. 

She stalked forward anyway, and the sinking feeling continued until it felt like the world was going to disappear from under your feet and you'd fall down into the void. 

"What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass smoking cigarettes?" Andrea pressed. 

"Well, it sure as hell ain't listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch," he fired back. 

You flinched as he jerked the hand with the cigarette in it to fling the ashes off, a move you'd seen Will do a thousand times- right before he'd set it carefully down and reach for his belt. For a moment, you couldn't move, and Ed's eyes went to Carol. 

"Tell you what- come on. Let's go!" he snapped.

Carol passed you and brushed your hand with hers as she passed, and you snapped back into your body. 

Andrea was telling Ed that Carol didn't need to go anywhere with him, and you moved straight to her side and grabbed her arm. 

"Andrea, no. Andrea, stop," you hissed.

"I say it's none of your damn business! You best listen to that cop's whore bitch there. Carol, I said come on!" Ed snarled, stabbing a finger toward her. 

"Carol, no, you don't have to," Andrea said, pleading with Carol, who told her in a meek whisper that it didn't matter. 

Your eyes were on Ed, as he got up in Andrea's face. "Hey. Don't think I won't knock you on your ass, just 'cause you're some college educated cooze. Now you come on, or you're gonna regret it later." 

"Why? So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?" Jaqui put in. "Yeah, we've seen them." 

"Carol," you said, cutting across their voices quietly but firmly. "Tell me what you want." 

Carol met your eyes and shook her head in an almost imperceptible negative and you nodded. She didn't want you to fight for her. She wasn't ready, which meant all this was only going to make things infinitely worse. You looked at Andrea, starting to speak, and Ed grabbed your shoulder and jerked you around. 

You slapped his hand away, all fear for Carol going out the window in a wave of panic-fueled adrenaline and rage. The words boiled out, no thought behind them as Ed's face changed briefly to Will's, to Mal's. "Don't you fucking touch me, you bastard. I'll knock you on your ass faster than you can swing at your wife or your kid!" 

He got right up in your space, nose to nose with you, and snarled back. "Get the fuck out of my way and don't you talk to my wife. Just 'cause you're spreadin' it for that pig thinks he's in charge don't mean shit to me; I'll knock you into next week too. Teach all y'all a damn lesson in knowin' your place. This ain't none of y'all's business. You don't wanna keep prodding the bull here, ok? Now I am done talking. Come on." 

He grabbed Carol's arm and started pulling her, and the others tried to get Carol to stay behind. You moved with Ed, staying in his way, and he glared at you until Carol's soft voice said "Ed, I-"

"You don't tell me what! I tell you what!" Ed screamed at her, and he backhanded her in a blur. 

You were on him without thought or planning, fist slamming into his cheek as the others started screaming and gathering around Carol. He whirled and hit you back, his own big fist slamming into your cheekbone with more force than you'd been able to generate behind yours. 

You staggered backward, seeing stars, but kept your feet. You squared up as Ed took a long step toward you, determined that this time, when a man thought he could smack you around, you'd prove who'd fucking win. 

The apartment door slammed and you jumped. You and Daryl looked at each other, holding your breath and waiting. 

"Goddamn it, kids! The fuck's this shit doin' everywhere? Get your asses out here." 

You frowned, trying to think what could possibly be out of place in the apartment enough to be everywhere. Daryl shrugged and set aside his copy of the homework you'd been working on together. 

"I'll go," he whispered as Will yelled for you again. 

You shook your head, listening to Will stomp toward the fridge, and grabbed Daryl's arm. "No. You did last time, and you're still healing. My turn," you said with a shrug and a twisted smile. 

He shook his head grimly. "Ain't lettin' ya-" 

"One of us don't go now it'll be both of us," you told him harshly as Will called a third time. You were on your feet and heading toward the door, shoulders squared and braced, and you glanced over your shoulder at him once with a quirk of your lips. "Besides, maybe it won't be that bad."


	15. Lie #15: "We're Friends, That's All" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic violence/abuse  
references to past child abuse

Shane saw her bucked up to Ed and his heart started pounding faster than his feet. It was fucking Malcolm Hall all over again, he thought grimly, but Shane was in reach of this one. Ed laid so much as a fucking finger on Slugger, he'd- 

Ed pulled on Carol's arm and then backhanded her so hard she flipped halfway around and fell into Amy. Shane's feet stopped and his eyes went wide, but he was moving again instantly. 

Unfortunately, so was Slugger. He saw her get a decent shot in, then the world slowed down, he was steps away, and that bastard's fist slammed into Ace's face. 

Her head whipped to the side, but damn if she didn't shake it off and square right back up. In the moment before Shane collided with Ed and took him to the ground, he realized maybe she'd been right all along. She could handle herself. 

Didn't matter, though, because Shane had made a promise to take care of her. It was Shane's responsibility to watch out for these people, and that included the woman crying in Amy's arms and the little girl back at camp. It included Slugger, who yelled his name as Shane hauled Ed across the ground away from the knot of women, went down to one knee, and started punching the shit out of him. 

Shane's hand slammed into Ed's face once, twice, three times, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. So he did it again, and again, and again, until the stupid, abusive bastard's face was more pulp and blood than anything else, and Shane's knuckles were split open and aching. 

Someone was yelling for him to stop, but he wasn't listening. Ed had crossed the goddamn line, the one Shane had been waiting for since he'd laid eyes on the man and on Carol's frightened, skittish eyes. It almost didn't matter that he'd taken that fist to Shane's Ace. Hitting Carol would have been enough. 

Shane threw one more punch for good measure, then hauled Ed up by his shirt collar, getting his battered, broken face inches from Shane's own. "You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?" Shane snarled. 

"Yes," Ed slurred, and Shane nodded and patted his cheek. 

He pulled Ed even closer and whispered into his ear. "You so much as look at Slugger again and she don't like it, I will put a knife behind your ear while you sleep. Don't speak. That's your one warning, asshole." 

He dropped him back down to the ground and scoffed as Ed blubbered. "I'll beat you to death, Ed. I'll beat you to death you lay a hand on them." 

He climbed to his feet and kicked him too, just for the hell of it; just because Ed had fucking dared- 

Carol came falling over Ed and crying, and Shane stared in disbelief. How the hell could she be apologizing to him? He'd hit her, right there in front of everyone. And they'd all seen the fucking bruises, so it sure wasn't the first time. He didn't get it. Carol, Ace, these goddamn bastards who used their fists on their women- he didn't get it. 

Ace. 

Shane whirled, and she was standing there, pale under the split skin of her cheekbone and the red already turning to bruising around it. Shane blinked and he was in front of her, his hand cupping her unmarked cheek as he tipped her face so he could see the damage. 

"Come here. Shit, sweetheart, let me see. Jesus," he muttered. "Ace, honey, don't worry; it's not that bad." 

"I know," she said. "Shane, I'm fine. I've been punched before, damn it. Is Carol ok? Are you ok?" 

Shane half laughed, trying not to freak the hell out on her. His hand slid into her hair and he pulled her forehead to his as his eyes closed. "Shit. Yeah, she's- she's alright. Come on, Slugger, let's go back to camp and look at that face closer."

"This really the time to flirt with me, Dickhead?" 

Shane huffed again, shaking his head at her and taking her hand in his to get her moving. "Shut up. Come on, we'll get the laundry done later." 

"Ace, are you ok?" Amy asked from beside them. She looked shocked, completely blown away by what the fuck ever had just happened. Shane wasn't entirely sure what had gone down, but he'd seen enough. Ed was a fucking menace. 

"I'm fine. Make sure Carol's ok, please?" Ace said, nodding toward where Carol bent weeping over Ed. 

Ace's eyes lingered on the two of them and Shane saw something move in her eyes, a hint of shame as she swallowed hard and lifted her chin. Shane wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side. 

"Don't look at him," he whispered, his fingers in her hair at the base of her neck. "Let's go, Slugger. He ain't worth a second of your time." 

"Maybe he's not, but she is," Ace whispered back.

She went with him without arguing, and that caused him more worry than her taking the fist to the face had. She was quiet the whole way, and Shane was too, thinking about what he'd just done. 

It wasn't beating the shit out of Ed that worried at him from the corner of his mind. It was that he hadn't wanted to stop. And that he'd meant it when he told the man   
he would kill him in his sleep if he crossed Ace again. 

Shane shivered slightly and shoved that thought from his mind, tugging Ace into his tent instead of the smaller Dixon one. She protested once again that she was fine, but he ignored her and pointed her to sit down or something, now. He turned to go get her some water and something to clean the cut on her cheek, lifting the flap on his tent to duck out.

Her hand latched onto his arm like a vice and she gave a tiny, shuddering sob. Shane spun around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, and she was staring wide-eyed at the tent wall, the back of her other hand pressed against her mouth. Not moving, not crying, nothing but that blank look and her hand white-knuckled on his forearm. 

"Shit," he said, and forgot about first aid for the moment. 

He stepped back to her and started to touch her shoulder. He hesitated, training failing him on what the fuck to do when his best friend had been punched- again- and was falling apart in front of him. As he hesitated- not wanting to scare her worse by doing the wrong thing but wanting to offer her something, anything- her eyes snapped over to him. That was it, just her eyes, and Shane thought 'fuck it', and wrapped his arms around her. 

She started to shake so hard he swore he could hear her goddamn bones rattle.

Shit, he thought again. He pulled her in closer and she came, her hands locking into his shirt as she pressed her face to his chest. He stroked a hand over her hair and started whispering an endless stream of nonsense as he eased down to the ground, pulling her with him and into his lap. 

"Yeah, I got you. I got you, Slugger. I told you once already, I'm always gonna be here, whether you want me to be or not. Ok?" He pressed a kiss to her hair and closed his eyes, and all he saw was her face- her face with blood on it and her eyes closed; her face covered in half-healed bruises; her face just now when her eyes shot to his. 

Shane's phone let out an obnoxious noise that had him choking on the beer he'd just taken a sip of. 

Rick glanced over at him with an upraised eyebrow. "What the hell was that?" 

Shane shot Rick a grin as he dug around in his pocket for his phone. Lori was curled against Rick's side on the couch, and she cracked up at Shane's answer. 

"That, my friend, is the sound of two pigs fucking." 

"Jesus, Shane," Rick complained, tipping his head to the back of the couch to stare up at his ceiling. "Why do I ask questions?" 

"Why do you have pigs having sex as your ringtone?" Lori asked, perfectly reasonably. 

Shane opened the message with his thumb while still smiling at the two of them. "Because Slugger thought-"

\-- Hey. You busy?

"Oh, I should have known," Rick mumbled. "When do we get to meet this girl? It's been three years, Shane." 

"Yeah, we want to get to know your girlfriend," Lori agreed. 

Shane waved them both off with a roll of his eyes, already typing. 

\-- Hanging at Rick's. What's up?

"She's not my girlfriend," he told Lori for what must have been the seven thousandth time. "We're friends, that's all. And you met her, Rick." 

\-- Didn't have the best day. Could use some cheering up.

"Jesus, put that thing on silent if you're going to text each other all night," Rick said. "When? I don't remember that, and I think I'd make a note of whoever keeps stealing you away from dinner on Thursday nights." 

\-- Rick's complaining about your ring tone, if that helps. What happened?

Shane glanced over at Rick again. "The bar, the night I met her. Blue hair, flaming shots?" 

Rick looked confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Well, that's your own damn fault then, for getting so trashed," Shane told him.

\-- Caught Mal in bed with another girl. In my bed with another girl. My apartment, my bed, my sheets that I'll be burning.

Shane muttered a curse and rubbed a hand across his eyes. 

\-- Shit, Slugger. I'm sorry. Want me to come over? I'll bring the matches.

"Something wrong?" Lori asked. 

Shane sighed. "Caught that asshole she's on and off again with cheating on her. In her own goddamn bed." 

Rick winced. "Ouch." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. 

\-- No, it's late. I'm fine. Kicked him out, told him we were done. It got a little messy, though.

\-- I'll bet. How messy?

"This the first time he's cheated on her?" Lori asked. 

Shane shook his head, spinning the phone in his fingers as he waited for her to respond. He was thinking about going up there anyway, despite her telling him not to. "Naw, he's a serial asshole. Don't know why she takes him back every damn time. I'd like to punch his lights out." 

Rick snorted. "Yeah. You're just friends." 

"Shut up," Shane mumbled as his phone buzzed. 

It was picture of her bedroom floor, with glass shards, a broken wine bottle, water and red wine, paint brushes, and chunks of painted ceramic all over the place.

"What the fuck?" Shane said, halfway to his feet when the next message came in.

\-- Dumb bitch objected to learning he had a girlfriend. There were many casualties in this war, including *my* wine, *my* wine glasses, and *my* hand-crafted brush holder. 

Shane eased back down, the knot in his chest easing slightly. He could picture her annoyed face as she listed all that out. 

\-- You hurt?

"Bitch broke shit all over her room," he told Rick. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Shit. I really hate that asshole, Rick." 

"She ok?" Rick asked, and Shane heard Rick's cop voice.

"Yeah, I think so," he muttered. "Don't think he'd have the guts to take a hand to her or anything. She can knock a man on his ass." 

\-- Told you, I'm fine. Just needed a friendly shoulder to bitch on, Dickhead. 

Shane sighed. "She's fine. Damn, that sucks. Hey, I'm gonna step out, give her a call. Be right back." 

The phone rang long enough for him to get nervous all over again, leaning Rick's front porch rail. When she finally picked up, she sounded exhausted and sad. Shane wasn't exactly surprised. 

"Hey, Dickhead." 

"Hey, Slugger. You sure you don't want me to come up?" he asked immediately. 

"No, I'm- shit. I'm good," she said, her voice strained. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning. 

She grunted. "Cleaning up. Fucking broke Maria's piece she made for me for my birthday. Goddamn it." 

"Yeah, sorry about that," Shane said. "You wearin' shoes? Awful lot of glass on that floor." 

"Yes, deputy," she said dryly, her voice catching. "Just- fuck. Tell me something funny. Make me laugh." 

"Somethin' funny?" He thought about it for a minute as she hissed again. "Shit, girl, be careful." 

"Bite me," she mumbled. 

He shook his head with a sigh. "Well, Rick and Lori want to meet you. They think you're my girlfriend." 

She snorted. "That is funny. You only date drunk bitches you find at last call." 

"Ouch," Shane said mildly. "Hey, you went home with me at last call." 

"No, I took you home at last call," she retorted. "But that was bitchy. Sorry, just- in a mood." 

Shane waved that off, realized she couldn't see it, and rolled his eyes at himself. "Naw, no worries. Oh, here. So Carl's in Little League, right, and his team sucks ass. Yeah, they're kids, I know. But they do. Last week at his game, this one dad...." 

Ace fell asleep in his lap, her body just shutting down after all that trauma, and Shane lay back on his sleeping bag and let her use him as a pillow. She hadn't shed a single tear, he thought, staring up at the tent ceiling and the play of light and shadows from the trees. Not a single tear. She just held onto him and trembled so violently he'd been afraid she'd vibrate an organ loose in there.

Now she shivered slightly and he ran his hand up and down her back, rubbing at his eyes with his other hand.

He'd threatened Ed. Not that the bastard hadn't deserved it, but- maybe, just maybe, that wasn't the way a good leader handled shit like that. It certainly wasn't the way a cop handled a domestic abuser. Or anyone for that matter. 

Shane was starting to wonder if he'd always been an impulsive bastard first and a cop second, or if that's what seeing her bloody on the ground had turned him into half a year ago. More than half a year now, he corrected himself, what with the end of the world and all. 

Rick and the others should be back soon, he told himself. Rick would give Shane that disappointed look when he heard what had happened, but then they'd figure out what to do about it together. Ace shifted against him, her hand sliding up under his half-unbuttoned shirt so her fingers curled over the tattoo on his chest, and Shane closed his eyes and prayed he was right about Rick getting back.

"So, who- or what, I guess?- is Lil Bird?" she asked. 

She was sitting at her table, bent over a sheet of paper and working on the tattoo they'd talked about. Shane wandered her apartment, studying the artwork on her walls- some of it literally painted or chalked right onto the plaster- in the daylight and without the buzzed edge he'd had the first time he'd been here. He was standing in front of one in particular, a black and white framed drawing of a hand, clenched into a fist at someone's side- a close up of the worn pocket and side seam of a pair of jeans and that big, weathered hand with the knuckles tattered and torn. Blood dripped from them, a drop caught permanently suspended in the air, and the level of detail on it drew Shane in and made him stare. 

"Hmmm?" he asked absently, tearing his gaze away from the drawing. 

"Lil Bird? There a story there?" she asked again, glancing over her shoulder. 

Shane nodded. "My sister. Her name was Robin, and our mom used to call her little bird, little birdie." 

Ace smiled. "My mom used to call my twin brother 'Darrie'. He hated it. I call him that when I really want to piss him off." 

"She the one who started 'Ace'?" Shane asked, coming over and sitting down. 

She grimaced. "No, that was my dad." 

Shane caught the tone and let that drop. "Anyway, not to get too damn maudlin, but Robin died when I was a kid. Freak thing. Nobody could have done anything about it, but it tore us all up. Parents split, and I ain't seen my dad in years." 

Ace reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Our mom died. Mine and Daryl's, I mean. Merle's mom is still out there somewhere, I suppose, but she left when our dad took up with our mom. Merle hasn't forgiven her for leaving him behind." 

"Shit, girl. Guess we both got crappy home lives." 

Ace shot him a twisted smile and slid the paper toward him. "You've got no idea. Alright, tell me what you think. I've got a friend who's a tattoo artist. I did his shop logo for him, so he owes me a favor and said he'd be fine doing one I worked up." 

"Ow," Ace mumbled, pushing off Shane's chest to sit up and prod at her cheek. 

Shane sat up too, watching her closely. She grimaced and glanced at him, and he saw the faint color staining her cheeks. 

"Sorry," she whispered. 

"The hell for?" he demanded. He nodded at her cheek. "That shit's gonna swell. Wish we had some ice for it." 

"Ice is a luxury we couldn't afford to waste on my face," she shot back. "And I'm sorry for completely freaking out on you. And falling asleep." 

He shrugged. "You were out for like an hour, tops. No big deal, sweetheart. You ok? Be honest." 

She grimaced. "I'm fine. Brought back a few unpleasant memories, is all. Carol ok? Ed?" 

Shane stared at her, feeling that black rage swirling up in a cloud when she asked about fucking Ed. "That bastard punched you and you're asking if he's ok?" 

She shrugged. "I punched him first. Then you punched him a hell of a lot more, so I figure we're even." 

Not hardly, in Shane's opinion, and he scoffed. "He'll be fine. Don't know how everyone is, I've been in here with you."

She looked guilty and started to get up, but Shane caught her wrist. She turned back to him, eyes going soft as he stared at her. 

"I'm really fine, Shane," she told him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

Shane's eyes closed and he swallowed hard, but he forced his tone to be light when he spoke to her. "You squared right back up to him, Slugger. I just saved him from you." 

She laughed as she ducked out of the tent. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Dickhead." 

Shane followed her out, glancing at the blood on his knuckles and thinking about that drawing at her place. 

"Uncle Shane, look at all these fish!" Carl called when they came out of the tent. 

Amy and Andrea stood holding Dale's gear and looking justifiably proud of themselves. Morales held up the two massive lines of fish and Ace let out a whoop. 

"Well done, you two!" she crowed, high fiving them both. 

"Are you ok?" Amy asked her urgently, and she brushed them off as Shane's attention turned to Dale. 

The older man walked up with a worried expression, and Shane braced himself for whatever the fuck had gone wrong now as Lori glared at him from one of the fire pits. 

"I don't want to alarm anyone, but we may have a bit of a problem," Dale said, and gestured to the ridge. 

Shane followed his pointing finger to see Jim digging frantically.


	16. Lie #16: "I Wouldn't Butt In, Except..." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
references to past domestic violence/abuse  
references to past child abuse

Shane told you to stay put while he and half the damn others went up to deal with whatever was going on with Jim. You wanted to argue, mostly on principle because to be honest you didn't give a shit what Jim was doing up there. 

But your face throbbed with your heartbeat and damn you were embarrassed over falling apart like that. You nodded meekly and sat down outside your tent, idly flipping open your sketchbook to the half-finished one of Shane you'd started the evening before by firelight and memory. 

Your heart wasn't in it, though, and you flipped restlessly to a fresh page and wished you had inking pens as your pencil started moving. Raised voices filtered down from the ridge and you winced, hoping that didn't amount to anything. 

Will's voice screamed in your head, the sound of his belt hitting flesh- yours, Daryl's, Merle's, your mom's in some distant corner of your memory- echoing. Mal's red-rimmed eyes made your stomach churn, his pupils tiny points of darkness making him look crazed through the peephole of your apartment as he fumbled a key into the lock, a key you hadn't known he had. 

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to banish your ghosts as you started to draw. 

Shane had Jim in handcuffs when they came down, and you started out of the chair. Shane met your eyes and shook his head at you, gesturing you back down with a set to his jaw that had you doing what he asked and watching him closely. He was too damn stressed out, you thought. 

Hell, you all were, sure. But Shane had been carrying this group, keeping these people alive, all while grieving his best friend. He'd had it rough the past few months, and just in today alone the hits had literally kept coming. 

He secured Jim to a tree, dispelled the group of nervous faces back to whatever they'd been doing before Dale had raised the alarm, and grabbed a bucket of water from the cooler with 'boiled' across the top. You were close enough to hear when he crouched beside Jim, and you paid attention with half an ear while you drew. Shane got him to drink some water and poured some over Jim's head, and you saw the worry start to fade in Shane's eyes when Jim drank. 

Up the path a little, behind them, Lori and Carol had Carl and Sophia doing homework. Glenn, when he brought back your sketchbook, had also picked up some workbooks and shit from a bookstore, to the moms' delight and the kids' utter dismay. You found the whole thing amusing- the world ended and these kids were doing homework?- but you didn't find the way Lori eyed Shane amusing. 

You were getting a little tired of her giving Shane the stank eye like that. What the fuck did she think? That the man who rescued every damn person in sight had just abandoned his best friend? There was no logical reason for that; no signs that pointed that way. It didn't make any fucking sense. 

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Jim asked quietly. 

Shane's eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile. He looked back to Jim. "Well, see, that's the thing. Until I don't think you're a danger to yourself anymore. Or others."

Just what the hell had happened up there on that ridge? you wondered again. 

"Sorry if I scared your boy. Or your little girl," Jim called to Carol and Lori. 

"You had sunstroke. Nobody's blaming you," Lori replied. 

"Not scared now, are you?" Jim asked. 

Your heart broke at the look Sophia shot him as she said no. No, that girl wasn't remotely scared of Jim, and you rather doubted that she ever had been. Sophia had a much bigger monster under her bed, maybe even bigger than all the walkers out there. You knew that look; you'd given it to bullies in school and jerks at the bar more times than you could count. 

They asked Jim why he was digging as you shifted to a clean page in your sketchbook and started on Shane as he crouched right there. You'd drawn him enough over the years you could speed through the basic shape of him- hair, eyes, nose, chin- in no time at all, and you concentrated on the look in his eyes right then, trying to capture the concern, the worry, the care. 

"Had a reason. Don't remember. Something I dreamed last night. Your dad was in it. You were worried about him. That's all I remember," he said to Carl. 

Shane's eyes hardened a touch and he glanced over his shoulder at Lori. Lori's face was a mask and she rubbed Carl's back with one hand as Jim asked if he was worried about his dad. 

"They're not back yet," Carl said, perfectly reasonably in your opinion. 

"We don't need to talk about that," Lori said firmly. 

You agreed; not in front of the kid anyway. But you were all going to have to talk about it soon. You and Shane specifically were going to have to talk about it, and about the fact that you'd be going into town after your brothers if they didn't show by morning. He wasn't going to like that, you thought grimly and you added his hand over his mouth like he had right then. 

"That man, he's tough as nails. I don't know him well, but I could see it in him," Jim told Carl. "Am I right?" he asked Shane. 

Shane looked over at you. "Oh yeah," he agreed. 

"There ain't nothing gonna stop him from getting back here to you and your mom, I promise you that," Jim told Carl firmly. 

Shane held your eyes, looking like he was in need of a hug but didn't want to admit it. You gave him a nod and a smile, trying to tell him he was doing the right thing and they'd be ok. They would. 

"Alright," he said slowly, picking up the bucket and mouthing a 'thanks' your way. "Who wants to help me clean some fish?" 

You laughed when the kids shot to their feet and took off after him, Carol and Dale following more sedately at their heels. 

Lori looked at her hands before she rose, and you turned back to finish out the shading on Shane as she crouched by Jim. 

"You keep your boy close. You don't ever let him out of your sight," Jim said firmly. 

When Lori walked away, you made a snap decision and followed her, catching her arm a few steps down the path. She looked at you with her eyebrows raised. 

"Can I ask you a question?" you asked her. "Another one, I mean." 

She crossed her arms and shrugged, looking vaguely confused. "I guess. How's your cheek?" 

"I'm fine," you dismissed that easily. "Listen, it's not really my business, but what the hell is going on with you and Shane?" 

"Excuse me?" Lori shot out, her tone biting. 

You sighed and gestured vaguely. "That. That's what I mean. You've always been a little off with me, and that's cool. I get it- I come out of nowhere and Shane's my friend. I thought he was your friend too, though, but I see the way you're looking at him." 

"And what way is that?" Lori asked, stepping closer and glancing around to see if anyone was in earshot. 

"Like he's the fucking devil," you said. "I wouldn't butt in, except he's done so much for all of us, and you're his family. I mean, he told me you had a room at your house that Carl called 'Uncle Shane's room'. You'd buy that ridiculously expensive coffee he insists he needs for when he was over. He'd go to Carl's Little League games and you listed him as an emergency contact for his school and his medical forms." 

Lori shook her head, glaring out at the trees around you. "Why do you know all that?" 

"Because he's my friend," you repeated. "You're his family." 

"No. He told me my husband was dead," Lori snapped. "He no longer gets to be part of my family. And how dare he ask you to talk to me." 

"He didn't," you snapped back at her, getting annoyed. "He doesn't know I'm talking to you. Lori, have you heard him talk about leaving that hospital? I have." 

"Oh, yes, I heard all about how my husband was dead and he couldn't get him out. But Rick is alive, and risking his life for your piece of shit brother." 

You nodded. "Yeah, ok, that's fair. Merle is a piece of shit. Shane's not. If he thought Rick was dead, he had a damn good reason to think so. He checked for a pulse, for breathing. Come on, Lori, it's Shane-" 

"Yes," she interrupted you. "It's Shane. And it is Shane and I who will be having this conversation if it needs to be had. So kindly stay out of it." She spun on her heel and walked away calling for Carl. 

You sighed and prodded gently at your throbbing cheek, wishing for aspirin. 

You spent awhile on watch, spending most of the time you were on the RV staring toward the road and wondering where the hell Daryl and the others were. Andrea waved up to you and said to come down for the fish fry, and you laughed and headed right down.

You hesitated as you approached Carol's tent, hearing voices from within. 

"The hell with them people. Wouldn't piss on 'em if their heads was on fire," Ed's miserable voice came. 

You didn't know if you reacted outwardly or not, but you felt a shiver run down your spine. God, you hated that man. You hated what you knew he was doing to Carol and probably to Sophia, and you hated that things had probably been made worse by the showdown at the quarry. 

And a tiny corner of your mind that you tried very hard to ignore hated that Shane hadn't gone on and killed him right then and there. 

"Why don't you stay here? Keep your daddy company." 

Your lip curled at that and you hoped to hell Carol said no. You'd heard that suggestion from Will a time or two as well, and it had your stomach churning.

Carol's voice came firm and stronger than you'd ever heard it. "Ed. She wants to join in. Come on." 

The two of them ducked out of their tent as Ed yelled after them that all of you could go to hell. Carol saw you and her eyes lingered on your cheek as they fell into step with you. 

"Hey. Sophia, sorry we didn't get to make paint. Maybe we'll give it a shot tomorrow. Or you and I will show Shane and Carl how catching frogs is really done," you said with a wink, and Sophia flashed you a small smile. 

"I want to thank you," Carol said quietly. 

You glanced at her. She had a small cut on the corner of her mouth and the beginning of a bruise on her jaw. "For what?" 

"I know you know how it is," she said. "I know you tried to stop it before he-" She cut off and turned to you, stopping walking and setting a hand on your arm. Sophia stopped as well, looking up at the two of you with anxious eyes. "He's not a bad man." 

You looked down at Sophia and smiled. "Hey, Sophia? Can you run on up to the fire? Lori and Carl are already there. I want to talk to your mom for just a minute, ok?" 

Sophia looked at Carol, who nodded and waved her on. She darted up the path, waving excitedly to Carl, who hovered over the fire and chattered to his mom. You turned back to Carol, who stood with her arms crossed, watching her daughter same as you had been. 

"I do know how it is," you said gently. "I know exactly how it is." 

Carol wasn't meeting your eyes, but she'd turned back to you. You touched her elbow and tried to find the right words. 

"Look, Shane tried to get me away from Malcolm before I was really ready. And the worst part was, before Shane tried, I thought I was ready. But as soon as he started telling me how bad Mal was for me; as soon as he went behind my back and filed a police report, started the paperwork for a restraining order- it was like a switch flipped in my brain. I forgot that I'd been done with Mal even before he slapped me so hard I fell into his van's trailer hitch and got knocked out cold." 

Carol shifted and rubbed at her upper arm, covered by her t shirt, and you wondered if there were some bruises there- old or fresh. She was listening, though, so you pressed on. 

"I froze Shane out. We hadn't- we hadn't talked for six months when we rolled up here. The thing is, I do know. I know all the ways they get into your head and under your skin. I know how they convince you that you deserve it, or at the very least don't deserve anything better. I won't push you to leave him, because if you're not ready then you won't do it. Not for good. But I will say one thing, ok?" 

Carol finally met your eyes. 

"You don't deserve it. And you do deserve better. Let's get some fish," you finished cheerfully, and started up the path before she could respond. 

Shane met you on the path. "Was just coming to find you ladies. Ready for the best damn meal we've had in awhile?" 

"Oh, only enough to beg," you said cheerfully. Carol headed over to join Sophia with a touch on your arm and you turned to Shane. "You ok?" 

He snorted, his hand resting on your back as you gathered around the expanded fire pit. They'd built it up with rocks to keep the flames out of sight, and pans of fish rested around the circle. Everyone was huddled together as Shane steered you toward the last two chairs. 

They were about as far from Lori and Carl as they could get, you noticed, and Lori looked away when you met her eyes. 

Shane pulled your sketchbook out of your chair and handed it to you as you sat, then checked to make sure his shotgun was in easy reach before he did the same. You rolled your eyes at him and smiled when plates came your way. 

Everyone was eating, laughing, and talking, still gathered an hour or so later. You'd finished eating and balanced your plate on a rock, and now you were drawing their faces in the firelight. 

"How can you see well enough for that?" Shane asked, looking over your shoulder. You were working on Andrea and Amy, looking at each other with those exasperatedly-fond expressions only siblings could get for each other. 

You shrugged. "I used to draw in the middle of the night, using a streetlamp outside the window to see. This is fine." 

"There's not a streetlamp outside your window, Ace. I've been in your room." 

"Not now. Mine and Daryl's and Merle's room, as kids," you mumbled as you finished Amy's smile. 

Shane was looking at you sideways as conversation flowed around you. "You know, you don't talk about your childhood much." 

"That's because it sucked ass," you said pleasantly.

Dale was making some pronouncement about time and watches and moments that you didn't really hear, and Amy rose. Shane had fallen silent beside you and you were almost finished, so you made an annoyed sound when Amy got up and took your reference points with her. 

"Where are you going?" Andrea asked. 

"I have to pee," Amy said in an annoyed hiss. "Geez, you try to be discrete around here..." 

Laughter rang around the fire as she walked to the RV, and you turned back to see if you remembered her face well enough to finish without her there. 

"We're out of toilet paper?" she yelled from the RV door, annoyed, and you looked up as the walker came out of the darkness. 

"Shane!" you yelled, scrambling to your feet with wide eyes as Amy started screaming. 

Shane shot to his feet as walkers boiled from everywhere and the camp dissolved into chaos. He pumped the shotgun as Carl screamed for his mom and you reached across Shane, under the gun as he lifted it to his shoulder, and grabbed the Glock from his holster. 

"Lori, get him down!" Shane yelled, and you turned and fired twice, taking down two of the dead coming toward the fire from behind. 

"Carol! Sophia!" you snapped. "Get behind me!" 

"Ace!" Shane yelled. 

"I'm fine!" you called back. Carol scooped up Sophia and moved in against your back. "Hand on my shoulder, Carol. We're heading to Shane." 

You made your way to where he had Lori and Carl much the same way, and he glanced at you when you fired again and a zombie who got a little too close to a bat-wielding Jim dropped. 

"Too many of them," you said to Shane. "What do we do?" 

"RV," he said, unloading another round into the crowd. "Fall back to the RV! Come on, come on. Stay close!" 

Shane was yelling at the top of his lungs, trying to bring some order to the chaos. He reached one hand toward you and you brushed his fingers with yours, but you needed both hands and so did he. Carol's hand was still on your shoulder and you said something reassuring to her. Lori and Carl were at Shane's back, whatever sins he'd committed forgotten now as he did what he always did and kept them safe. 

You fell back with him, picking another dead asshole off Morales, who jerked and gave you a nod. You nodded back, and he grabbed his family and started hustling them with you toward the RV. 

"How many rounds in this thing, Shane?" you yelled to him. 

"It was full!" he yelled back. "Come on, Morales, everybody make your way to the Winnebago! Come on!" 

Good, you thought firmly. You planted your feet at Shane's side, your shoulder brushing his, raised the gun in a steady, two-handed grip, and got to work. There weren't enough rounds and you knew it, but it wasn't like there was another option. 

"Ace, duck!" Shane snapped and you leaned forward and covered your ears. The shotgun went off over your head and your ears rang despite the protection, but you shook your head and raised the damn gun back up anyway. 

"Baby! Carl!" 

You could have cheered when you heard Rick's panicked voice rising over the sounds of multiple other guns firing. The exploded into the center of camp, Glenn and T Dog looking scared as shit but firing all the same. 

Rick had his revolver in one hand and his goddamn sheriff's hat on his head, and Daryl- 

Your brother was going to town with a rifle, but there was some dead bitch in a tattered dress coming up behind him. You whipped Shane's Glock around and took her down, and Daryl's head whipped to her and then up, scanning the camp. 

"Ace?" he yelled, as Rick took down the last of them with the revolver. 

Silence fell and you dropped the gun toward the ground, pulling your finger off the trigger like you were in a gun safety course. 

"Here, Dar!" you called back. 

Lori and Carl ducked out from behind Shane, running to Rick, and Shane turned to you and grabbed your arm. He spun you around and looked you over, and you shoved your hair out of your face and handed him his gun back, butt first. 

"What the hell, Slugger?" he asked, making no move to take it. 

You snorted, securing it back in his holster yourself. "What? You thought I grew up with Daryl and Merle and didn't know how to shoot?"


	17. Lie #17: "We're Going To Do Better Than That" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic abuse/violence  
references to past child abuse

Daryl made his way to you, stopping to bash in a skull with the end of the rifle. Your nose wrinkled as brains sprayed everywhere, but shit. It had to be done. 

"Hey," he said when he reached you, and frowned when he saw your cheek.

"Hey." You tossed your arms around his neck without waiting to see what he was going to say. He wrapped one arm around you, still holding the rifle, and scoffed. 

"Shit, sis. Good shootin'." 

You huffed out a laugh, tears forming in your eyes as the adrenaline faded back. You stepped back and dashed at them, then glanced around. "Thanks. Where's Merle?" 

Daryl hesitated and you stopped breathing. "Oh," you said softly. "Ok." 

"He cut off his fuckin' hand," Daryl muttered. 

"He what?" you blurted, and your voice was too loud over the soft sobs from the kids and Andrea. 

Daryl met your eyes with a wild look, and you knew yours was the same. "I know. He cut off his fuckin' hand and left the buildin', and we couldn't find him. Tracked him awhile, was gonna search some more, but shit happened. Glenn got taken by these Vatos assholes, only turned out they weren't fuckin' assholes. Got back and the fuckin' van was gone. Hauled ass here, came into this shit." 

You shook your head in mute denial, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. Daryl's arm wrapped around you again and you leaned into him. 

"Daryl, I'm sorry," you whispered. 

He brushed that off with a grunt. "His own dumbass fault, not waitin' on us." 

"Yeah," you mumbled, but Daryl set his chin on your shoulder and he didn't let you go right away. 

The night was long. Daryl and Shane both tried to tell you to go sleep, but you refused, instead sitting on the edge of the Winnebago with a rifle on your lap and the binoculars glued to your eyes. Since Rick and Shane now knew you could hit at least the broad side of a barn and you'd flat refused to crash while they patrolled all night, you were elected to maintain the lookout perch. 

The sun rose in a display of glory at odds with the carnage waiting down behind you, and you rose to your feet with it. 

Time for the cleanup to begin, you thought with a tired stretch. 

Glenn, Daryl, and T Dog fell into a rhythm as Daryl took a massive pickax to the heads of the dead and the other two carried the bodies to the fires. You wandered, picking up scattered tools and supplies. You started a smaller fire away from the dead and put a pot on with water, to get it boiling and then cooled back down for drinking for the day. The water run would need to be made, but one look at Shane's exhausted, horrified face said that would have to wait. 

He sat, shotgun in hand and shoulders slumped, and stared over at where Andrea had been bent over Amy all damn night. She hadn't moved yet, and your heart broke for her. 

You didn't even like Merle all that much, honestly, but you were feeling his absence. You couldn't imagine seeing him die right in front of you like that. 

You walked to Shane and wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, laying your cheek against his shoulder for a minute. He reached up one hand and grabbed your wrist, not taking his eyes off Andrea and Amy. 

"Shane, this is not your fault," you whispered. "It's not." 

"You don't know that, Slugger." 

"Yes," you told him firmly. "I do. It's not." 

On the other side of the fire, Lori watched you as you sat down beside him, leaning against him tiredly. He pulled you closer with an arm around your shoulders. 

Rick walked up from where he'd been trying to reach his friend on the radio. "She still won't move?" 

"She won't even talk to us," Lori said. "She's been there all night. What do we do?" 

"Can't just leave Amy like that," Shane said grimly. "We need to deal with it. Same as the others." 

You looked up at Rick, who nodded once and headed toward Andrea. You chewed absently on your lip, then pushed to your feet, hand lingering on Shane's shoulder as you went to check if the water you'd put on earlier had reached a boil. With it cooling down, you hauled the whole cooler back toward the Winnebago. Shane, Daryl, Rick, Lori, Dale, and Carol were gathered close together, and Andrea was still bent over Amy. 

You set the water on the ground and headed up to them as Daryl tossed his arm out in a gesture that had you grimacing tiredly. 

"The dead girl's a time bomb!" he was saying as you walked up. 

"What do you suggest?" Rick asked. 

Daryl scoffed. "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain, from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance. Even Ace can make that shot, no problem." 

"Don't be a dick," you muttered. "Daryl, that's her sister. You can't be serious." 

"So? It needs to be done," he insisted. 

"No. For God's sakes, let her be," Lori said dully, sitting back down. 

Daryl looked at Rick, who looked at Shane, who shrugged. Daryl went stalking off and you rubbed at your face before remembering how much that fucking hurt. Glenn's voice rose from the geek fire, and Daryl and Morales turned and drug the body of one of the camp members toward the row of victims. 

Daryl was apparently doing his best Merle impression this morning, because the place didn't have enough problems. "You reap what you sow!" he yelled. 

"For shit's sake," you mumbled, and started after him. 

"Y'all left my brother for dead!" he yelled. His eyes landed on you as you shot him a shut the fuck up look. He ignored you and Shane grabbed your arm as you started after him. 

"You had this comin'!" Daryl shot out before striding off away from everyone. 

"Is it too much to ask that my brothers not be fuckin' assholes?" you complained.

Shane scoffed and let go of your arm. "Those two? Think it might be. He's grieving, Slugger. We won't hold it against him. For now." 

"Yeah, well. We're all grieving. Don't see me or you being dickbags about it," you shot back. You closed your eyes, for a moment thinking that things truly could not get worse. 

"A walker bit Jim!" 

You stood corrected, you thought bitterly. 

"I say we put a pickax in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl declared. 

You groaned as Shane snapped at him. "That what you'd want?" 

"Yeah, and I'd thank you while ya did it," your brother shot back. 

"God, you would," you muttered, and he glanced at you. 

"I never thought I'd say this, but maybe Daryl's right," Dale put in slowly. 

"Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog," Rick said, disgusted. 

"I'm not suggesting-" 

"He's sick. He's a sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be," Daryl snarled. 

You actually agreed with him on that one- fighting your way out of a hospital would do that to you- but not with the idea of just killing Jim. That felt like a bit much. On the other hand, he was a danger to the whole damn group. Needs of the many and all that shit.

"What if we can get him help?" Rick said intently. "I heard the CDC was working on a cure." 

You tuned out as the debate began, Shane and Rick going back and forth about the likelihood of the CDC still being standing. You turned and looked at Jim, where he sat tied for the second time in as many days, T Dog stand guard nearby. 

He was just a man, you thought tiredly. All of you were just people. How the hell would any of you- 

"You go lookin' for aspirin. Do what you need to do. Somebody needs to have the balls to care of this damn problem!" 

You grabbed for Daryl's arm, but he brushed you off, ax up and swinging as he headed toward Jim. 

"Hey hey hey!" Rick yelled, his Python cocked and pointed at Daryl's head. "We don't kill the living." 

"Yeah?" you yelled, striding toward them both. Shane called your name and you flipped him off over your shoulder, shoving your way between Rick and Daryl to glare at Rick. "That's rich, considering you've got a gun pointed at my brother's head." 

Rick glared at you as Shane came up at your side. 

"Slugger, Dixon, Rick and I may disagree on some things, but not on this. Put it down. Go on." 

Daryl thunked the ax onto the ground and you stared Rick down until he lowered the Python. As soon as he had, Daryl started running his mouth again. 

"You left my brother to die," he scoffed, gesturing at Rick. "And I come back from tryin' to rescue him and my sister's got a damn bruise on her cheek size of fist. But sure, you two assholes are in charge." He shot a glare Shane's way, and you slapped a hand on Shane's chest when he started toward Daryl. 

"Dar, shut the fuck up!" you yelled at him. 

Daryl looked at you, his eyebrows shooting up, and you crossed your arms and glared right back. 

"Shane beat the shit out of Ed for this. Get all your fuckin' facts before you run your damn mouth, would you? Shit. Stop bein' an asshole, ok? We've all lost someone here! Just- fuckin' walk it off or something. Just because Merle's not around doesn't mean you need to take on the family mantle of complete jerk. Let Will's legacy end, why don't you?" 

It was a low blow and you knew it, but it was also the fastest way to get your point across. You loved your twin dearly, but you were dead on your feet along with everyone else here and you didn't want to sugar coat anything for him anymore. 

He froze and looked at you, his shoulders slumping enough you knew your point hit home. You stepped up to him, arms falling as you took a deep breath, and kissed his cheek. "I'm fine. You're fine. We'll find Merle, I promise. In the meantime, let's not make everyone here want to kill us. Ok, bro?" 

He scoffed, ruffling your hair with one hand. "Whatever, baby sis." 

"I am five minutes younger than you, Darrie!" 

"The fuck I say about callin' me that?" 

Someone banged on your door and you winced. You rose, looked in the mirror and thanked every god you could think of that you'd ducked Mal's slap this time, even if taking one in the stomach wasn't much better. At least you weren't going to be bruised up for this conversation. 

"Ace, open the fuckin' door or I'm kickin' it in," Daryl yelled. 

You grimaced in the mirror and hurried over. Yeah, my neighbors would just love that," you said dryly, leaning in the doorway and looking at two thunderously pissed off faces. 

Your brothers stared at you, identical scowls on their lips and black leather vests on their shoulders. You shook your head fondly at them and stepped aside, opening the door wider. 

"Hey. Come on in," you said simply. 

They shoved by you and you swung the door closed, then turned around to see Daryl studying your walls and Merle studying you. 

"What the fuck's this I hear about some asshole hittin' on ya?" he asked bluntly. "And why the hell ain't ya said nothin' about it before now?" 

You sighed and wandered over to the kitchen. "Nice to see you too, Merle. Want a drink? I'm having one." 

Merle snorted. "Jus' tell me who I'm killin', baby sis." 

"No one," you snapped. "That's called murder, asshole." 

"An' ya think I'm gonna let someone lay a hand on my family and not die for it?" he roared. 

You rolled your eyes and took a shot of tequila straight from the bottle. "Yeah, I do." 

Daryl cut in before Merle could yell any more. "Why's that?" he asked softly. 

You looked over to find him standing in front of the 7 ft by 5 ft drywall slab of Red Riding Hood and the Wolf you'd done a few weeks ago, to replace the half-finished multimedia construct Mal had destroyed with a glass of wine and his fist going through it at face level. His hands were in his pockets, his stance deliberately loose and relaxed in comparison to Merle's puffed-up rage. 

But when you met his eyes, the force of the anger swirling in them took you by surprise. 

You fought with them constantly, barely spoke to them, and generally whenever you did someone ended up storming off, insulted. But here they were, coming as soon as you called, ready to throw their lives away just to get revenge for you. 

Your throat and eyes burned with tears that wanted to fall, but you answered his question with fierce determination. "Because we're going to do better than that. We're going to put his ass in prison for the rest of his life." 

"How the fuck is that better?" Merle asked, lip curling. "Don't need no damn pigs involved in this." 

"Because if we do it officially, he'll fucking suffer in prison. If you just kill him, you'll suffer in prison. Look, will you help me do this my way or not?" you demanded impatiently. 

Merle snorted, tossing his hands and pacing away, but Daryl's eyes lingered on you. 

"Depends," he said with a jerk of his head. 

"On what?" 

"On how bad you're hurt right now, that's what," he said. 

You paused. "How do you know I'm hurt?" you asked cautiously, but Merle had already whirled back and stalked over to you. With both of them staring you down, you sighed and drank from the bottle again. 

"More than I'm ok with but less than Will," you answered with a shrug. "I'm sore and I've got some bruises. I'll live." 

Daryl scoffed. "That ain't a good unit of measure, Ace. Aight. What do you want us to do?"


	18. Lie #18: "I'll Just Add It To The List of Habits I'm Breaking" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
implied/referenced domestic abuse

Shane sat outside Ace's apartment, waiting for her to get off work. He'd have gone to the bar, but that asshole had played today. 

He was still pissed she'd asked him not to come around when Malcolm fucking Hall was there. Not at her- well, a little at her- but at him. Couldn't handle her having a fucking man in her life who actually treated her like a human being, Shane grumbled to himself. Whatever. Until Ace was ready to quit him, Shane would steer clear on Grave Behavior nights. 

Tired footsteps and Ace's voice singing softly sounded on the stairs and he felt himself smiling. She came around the corner, headphones on and head bobbing, and came up short when she saw him. Her head tilted to one side, she shook her head a little, and pulled the headphones off her ears. 

"What the hell are you doing here, stranger?" she asked with a smile, shoving her key into the lock. 

"What, not happy to see me?" 

"I'm always happy to see you," she called, disappearing into the darkness before light flared from her bedroom. 

Shane stepped in, closed the door, and kicked off his shoes- habit from Rick's. He flipped on the light in her living room, finding the switch easily even in the near darkness, and waited for her to reappear. It didn't take long before she ducked out of her bedroom, buttoning up a too-big flannel shirt that looked vaguely familiar. 

She pulled her hair- pastel pink now; last time he'd seen her it was silver with purple on the tips- out of the collar and lifted an eyebrow at him. "I'll just point out that it's two am and you didn't tell me you were coming." 

He shrugged. "I miss you, Slugger. And I have to be in court tomorrow anyway. If I crash on your couch, is Malcolm going to beat me up? And why does that shirt look so familiar?" 

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look. "It's yours. You left it here like six months ago." 

She headed toward the kitchen while Shane tried to decided if asking for it back would do any good. From the looks of it, he'd say not much. She had the sleeves rolled up perfectly to just above her elbows, and she sure hadn't been in her room long, so she'd had that thing ready and waiting for when she got home. Hell, if she liked it that much, she could keep it. He had others- and he sure hadn't been missing it if he didn't even know it was his when he saw it.

"Of course Mal's not going to beat you up. You could take him if he tried, anyway," she said over her shoulder as she grabbed a glass from the cabinet to the left of her sink. "You could have just asked, you know. We've been talking half the day. Want anything?" 

Shane shook his head when she gestured vaguely toward the fridge. "Naw, I'm good. Figured if I just showed up, I'd have a better chance of you sayin' yes," he added with a smirk. 

She paused in the act of downing water like she was dying and shot him a guilty look. "You know you can stay whenever, right? Hell, you know where my key is." 

He shrugged. "It wasn't there. You move it?" 

"No," she said with a frown. "That's weird. I'll check on it in the morning. Maybe Mal forgot to put it back." 

"Yeah. Hey, I was just teasing you, Slugger," he added, heading for the door. "It was just a last-minute deal, that's all. I'll be right back, gonna grab my bag." 

When he came back in, she had some bright, sparkly something playing, a cheerful woman's voice singing about love and loss and whatever. Shane didn't really pay attention as he dropped his bag by the couch and flopped down on it to watch Ace. 

She was sketching out some new piece on a massive drywall slab, using a stick of charcoal to made the basic shapes she was going to paint in later. Wasn't spray paint or airbrush, he thought as he watched her. She never outlined those first; did them all free hand instead.

"What are you using for that one?" 

She mumbled something, waving a hand in the air like that actually meant anything to Shane as she stepped up onto the stool she kept nearby and outlined another building. Whatever it was, it was going to be a cityscape. 

He grabbed the blanket she kept tossed over the back of the couch, stuffed one of her decorative girly pillows under his head, and watched her work until he fell asleep. 

Ace sacked out in one of the camp chairs after telling Daryl off. Shane shook his head and grabbed a blanket to drape over her, then headed up to the RV. Lori sat on the step, staring into space, and Shane dropped to a crouch in front of her. 

"I need you to help talk some sense into Rick," he told her seriously. 

As he expected, she glared and rose, heading away from him. He followed her, the needs of the whole group outweighing his hurt and Lori's anger. She needed to see his point of view on this, and he needed her to help him get Rick to see it too. 

"Look, Lori, this CDC thing- it's a mistake," he insisted. 

She shook her head, but he knew she agreed with him. From the look on her face, though, she wouldn't go against Rick. 

He sighed. "So you're backin' him?" 

"What else would I do?" she asked. "He's my husband." 

That burned Shane's ass, because when had she ever just gone along with Rick because they were married? Hell, Shane had heard about their fights from both of them for years. If Lori didn't like something Rick wanted to do, she told him- loudly and occasionally in the most bitchy way possible. But she told him, damn it. 

So the only reason she was saying that now was because she wanted to prove she was loyal to Rick. Like Shane fucking wanted to keep her at his side or something. Like Shane had been the one to seduce her, when damn it, the opposite was true.

"Look, it may be the time for you to play the dutiful wife, but you can't tell me that fixing your marriage is worth puttin' people's lives at risk," he snapped at her, pissed off that she was prioritizing her personal business over everyone's safety- including hers and Carl's. 

"I think folks around here can make up their minds without bringing my marriage into it," she fired back, giving him that look he'd seen directed at Rick a time or two. It'd always made him wince, a kind of amused 'some's in trouble' thing, but now Shane had a whole lot more sympathy for the man. 

"It's a habit you need to break," she added. 

Shane glared. Yeah, because her marriage wasn't the reason he was in this damn situation to begin with. Because Shane hadn't been there for the whole damn thing, including all the shit she and Rick had been dealing with before Rick got shot. Because Shane, of course, was the cause of all of her problems right now. 

He'd forgotten for a moment that he was the bad guy now. Fucking hell. 

"I guess I'll just add it to the list of habits that I'm breaking," he muttered. 

Lori backed Rick up and even Rick looked surprised- and a little suspicious. Shane wanted to tell Lori snidely that if she didn't want Rick to know something was going on, maybe she shouldn't do something completely out of character for her like actually be a supportive wife. 

Instead, he suggested he and Rick do a sweep of the woods, so they could argue about it- again- alone. Rick was determined, and Shane just didn't get it. 

Rick had been in a goddamn coma for the first three months of this mess. Didn't he think Shane had the first fucking clue what were and were not viable options? Shane had lived through it, damn it. He'd lived through it and gotten Lori and Carl out and saved all those damn people back at the camp. 

Even if they'd lost more of them last night than Shane wanted to think about now. 

He'd heard all those same reports Rick was talking about, only Shane had heard them live. He'd heard them first hand. He'd been on the road to Atlanta and the safety they'd been promising there when fucking helicopters flew through the night and dropped bombs on the supposedly safe zone. 

Fuck the CDC he thought angrily. Just- fuck that. 

Rick walked at his side, gun in hand, and Shane wanted it to be familiar and right, like it was just another day in the office. But some unspoken thing hung between them, heavy and thick enough that Shane felt like he was suffocating with it. 

He should come clean, he thought. He should tell Rick right here, right now, what had happened between him and Lori. He should tell him they thought he was dead, and it was a mistake they made because they were scared and grieving, and he was sorry. He should tell Rick he tried to get him out, tried to find his pulse or hear his breathing, that he'd begged Rick to give him a sign. 

Shane opened his mouth to say all that. That wasn't what came out. 

"I tell you what, these people, man, they're not convinced. You head to the CDC, you might be on your own. You want to really consider whether you want to put Lori and Carl in that kind of spot." 

What the hell? Where the fuck had that asshole come from? He was going to end this bullshit, not make it worse. 

"I gotta do what's best for my family," Rick answered. 

Shane felt the hurt and the anger start to stir. Wasn't he a part of that family? There'd been a time when Rick would have listened to him. He would have at least considered what Shane was saying, talked it out with him. 

Here he was, and Shane was still missing his best friend. 

"What's best for your family?" he asked. "What's that? Exposing them to all kinds of risks?" 

He really wasn't trying to fight with Rick, he reminded himself. He just wanted to talk to him. So why did every damn word out of his mouth sound like a challenge? 

"As opposed to what? Crossing a hundred miles of hostile territory? If we're looking for a lifeline, I say swim toward the closest ship, not further out to sea. Why can't you back me up?" Rick's voice on the last sounded genuinely confused. It sounded like Rick wanted their friendship back in place the way Shane did, and it made Shane hurt even worse. 

"Look, I want to, I do. It's just..." he trailed off, trying to find the words. They didn't come, but at least he didn't sound like a total douchebag when he finished. "I don't see it." 

"If it was your family, you'd feel differently," Rick said. 

Shane froze in place, staring at Rick. Him and Lori, he thought dully. What the hell? What had Shane done to get excommunicated from the Grimes clan so abruptly and completely? 

For years, he was part of that family. Now the world ended and Rick came back from the dead and what? Shane was just some extra set of hands they didn't need or want anymore? 

Lori had come on to him. Lori had started this, not Shane. But Shane was the one getting cast out for it, and he- 

He couldn't let this stand. Not them. They were all he had. Rick had been the next best thing to a brother since Shane's sister died and his dad walked away from him and his mom. Shane had been at Rick's house more than his own as kids; had helped Rick plan his first date with Lori; had hidden in the fucking bushes with a camera when Rick proposed. Shane had been their best man. His name was on their marriage certificate as a witness. Shit, he was Carl's named guardian in their fucking will if anything happened to the two of them. They were his goddamn family, even if they didn't want him anymore. 

"What the hell did you just say to me?" The words exploded from him as he stalked Rick's way, hurt turning to ball of churning rage in his gut. "I kept them safe, man. I looked after them like they were- like they were my own. That's what I did. They bombed Atlanta and I gave up trying to get to Ace to keep them safe. They are my family! You are my family!" 

"I didn't mean it that way-" Rick started, but Shane wasn't willing to just let it go. He'd had too much of this shit lately, too much of Lori and Rick pretending like he wasn't as much of their lives as he was. 

Did they even know how many times he talked both of them off the deep end? Did they forget how damn much of their shit he'd shoveled over the years? 

"Well, how'd you mean it? Go on, man, how'd you mean it?" he demanded. 

Rick looked away, guilt warring with the anger Shane knew he still felt. "You're misinterpreting me, man. You're just- you're just hearing it wrong." 

"Yeah?" 

"Look, you know- you know I can never repay that debt," Rick continued seriously, looking Shane in the eyes. 

And for some reason that just pissed him off worse. He didn't want fucking payment. He didn't want Rick's debt. It was just what Shane did. Shane just wanted Rick to say thank you and then treat Shane like his damn brother again. He didn't want- 

A twig snapped and Rick and Shane were back to back, guns up and communicating without words again. Shane went one way, Rick went the other, and he turned back to check on Rick. 

Rick walked right into Shane's sights, and- 

He didn't move the gun right away. He knew he needed to; this was how people got shot, damn it, and Shane was a trained fucking officer of the law. But he held his best friend in his sights while his heart pounded and he couldn't move, and Shane didn't know why. 

He didn't know why. 

He snapped the gun down with physical effort and shaking hands, and of course Dale was staring right at him. 

Back at the camp, people were collapsed in a silent group around the fire. Andrea had fallen asleep, but Ace was awake. Daryl sat at her feet, leaning his head against the chair arm and fiddling with his crossbow. She had one hand on his shoulder and her eyes fixed on the fire, lost in thought. 

She looked up as he, Rick, and Dale came back into camp and frowned at him, concern in her eyes. Concern for him. 

He'd left her in Atlanta for Rick's family, he thought bitterly. And Rick's family didn't want him anymore. 

He was almost ready to let them fucking leave on their own then; to hell with him and Lori both. Then Carl looked up at Rick and Shane shoved a hand through his hair and gave up. He was Uncle Shane, even if Carl's parents didn't want him to be. They couldn't take that away from him.

"I've been, uh- I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Now look, there are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that." He sighed and met Rick's eyes, trying to offer him an apology without using words. "I've known this man a long time. I trust his instincts." 

Because that was the thing- Shane did. Rick's instincts had saved their lives a few times. Rick's instincts had steered Shane clear of a few romantic entanglements that would have been extremely bad for his health and happiness. Rick's instincts had brought Shane to Ace's bar and helped Shane pick out his house and told him he really didn't need to keep the damn dog he'd found on the side of the road (and Rick was right, as usual, even though it was a damn shame). 

"I say the most important thing here is that we need to stay together," he continued, and looked around the group slowly. "So, those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?" 

Lori looked confused as hell, Ace looked like she didn't give a single solitary shit what they did, Daryl had his eyes closed, and everyone else looked considering. Rick met Shane's eyes and nodded once, relief and gratitude in his face, and Shane thought maybe he'd just made the right decision. 

They packed up the next morning, breaking down tents, combining vehicles, and stripping the campsite bare. Shane hadn't realized how much goddamn stuff they'd accumulated while they were here, considering how little everyone had started out with and how little it still seemed they had. 

How in the hell had any of them moved before the world ended, when everyone had ten times the amount of shit they had now piled in corners and on bookshelves and stuffed into the backs of closets? Jesus fucking Christ, Shane got a headache just thinking about it. 

He was grumbling to himself as he folded up chairs around the fire pit. He hadn't slept hardly at all the night before, laying in his tent and thinking about Rick and Lori and Ed and the bruise on Ace's cheek and being willing to let six people die in Atlanta with no worries. He'd thought about fucking Lori in the dark and holding his gun on Rick and whispering to Ed that he'd put a knife through his ear. Shane wondered what the hell had happened to him. When had he become this- this ruthless? This unprincipled? 

Sure, Rick had always been the voice of reason and moderation. Shane was all or nothing- he loved you or he hated you. He played to win or not at all. But he'd never been fucking cold. At least, he didn't think so. 

He snatched up the next chair with more force than necessary, slamming it closed and tossing it toward the pile of them. He tried to banish the swirling, circling thoughts, but his mind kept coming back to them. He shoved a hand through his hair, took a step toward the last chair, and saw her sketchbook on the ground. 

Jesus, his Ace, he thought as he scooped it up. Blood splattered the cover and had seeped into the first few pages, and he rifled through it to see if the whole thing was ruined or if it was salvageable. 

She'd pulled his gun from his side and started shooting, and he hadn't even known she fucking could. All this time, even just up here, and she hadn't touched one yet. Shane would have given her his if he'd known; let her have another layer of protection. Hell, he'd try to give her one now. 

He wanted to ask that woman some pointed questions about her childhood, though. That scar on her back, the way she could shoot- he wondered what exactly they'd talked about for five damn years. He wondered how many other secrets she was keeping from him. 

Then again, he didn't really want to get started talking about secrets, did he? He had a few of his own that he wasn't really sure he wanted to have come to light, not even with her. Like Lori. Like holding his gun on Rick. Like what he'd said to Ed.

Damn, the woman could draw, he thought as he flipped through the pages. The book was almost full, and he could have stared at each page. All of them were there- Lori, Carl, Rick, Merle, Daryl, Andrea, Amy, the Morales's, Ed, Carol, Sophia, Dale. Shane found himself on more than a few of those pages, part of group scene or on his own, his expression different every time. 

He was used to it by now, but it never ceased to amaze him the way she could capture people- could capture him- so realistically. 

There were other things too, because Slugger drew everything and anything, whatever struck her. There were mural ideas; one anger-fueled outline of what she'd paint on the quarry wall that made him wonder what bug had crawled up her ass before she drew that; the Atlanta skyline; doodles of trees and firewood and items from around camp. 

He flipped again and froze, staring down at a page filled with harsh contrast. It was done comic-style, so nonspecific it could have been anyone, but Shane knew her work and knew it was him. It was him, standing in shadow in an alley, moody street lamps casting light that hit hard, angry eyes and bared teeth, his fist clenched and raised and knuckles smeared with blood. On the ground at his feet was a crumpled, beaten figure, and Shane knew he was looking at himself standing over Ed. In the background, figures held onto a crying woman, and another person's form was barely visible in the shadows behind what he knew to be him, fingers clenched around his arm and pulling him back. 

Shane scrubbed his hand across his face and closed the sketchbook with a sigh, tucking it under his arm to give to her later. 

She'd drawn him a lot over the years, Shane though wearily. But never had she drawn him beating the shit out of another human being. Because she'd never seen him beat the shit out of another human being, until the world ended and Shane's own thin layer of civilization was ripped away. 

Shane was starting to think he'd always been the monster underneath.


	19. Lie #19: "I Did Half The Work For Him" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
discussion of past child abuse  
domestic violence/abuse  
discussion of manipulation and abuse tactics  
minor character death (cannon)

The first leg of the journey wasn't bad. You and Daryl rode together in his truck, though your eyes had lingered on Shane jumping into his Jeep alone and looking pissed off. 

But your brother had asked you to help him load Merle's bike into the back of the truck, and he had that look around his eyes that said he needed someone as well. So you hugged the Morales' family, squeezed Shane's hand as you went by him, and jumped into the cab with Daryl. 

"So," you said as the two of you pulled up the rear of the convoy. "Wanna... I don't know. Talk?" 

He shot you a look and snorted, turning back to the road. 

"Oh, sorry, I forgot who I was with. That's fine, we can just ride silent and taciturn until we get to the CDC," you teased. You scooted down in the seat a little and propped your feet on the dash, delighted that at least you wouldn't be spending this ride in massive amounts of pain with every breath you took or every pot hole Daryl hit. 

"Shouldn't've given another fuckin' gun away," Daryl muttered. "Shouldn't be goin' to the goddamn CDC." 

"Why not? They need something to protect themselves. And where should we be going?" 

He gestured vaguely. "Fuck if I know. Back in the city to fuckin' find Merle." 

That put a damper on your mood, for sure. You scooted over across the bench seat and leaned your head on his arm. "Yeah. I wish we could."

"I know there's kids'n shit, so we cain't just go into the city with everyone. I know it's too damn dangerous, what with not knowin' where he is. But-" Daryl broke off and sighed. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you nodded. 

"But he's our brother. I agree," you said quietly. "How's this for a plan? We get Jim to the CDC. If everything goes like Rick hopes, then you and me head back to Atlanta. You know I know that city like the back of my damn hand. We'll sneak our way in, use stealth and be smart." 

Daryl scoffed. "Ain't takin' ya back in there, you crazy?" 

"Why the hell not?" 

"'Cause macho sexist bullshit that's why not," he muttered. 

You cracked up and he shot you that mildly amused look, smirk hovering on his lips. "Damn it, Dar." 

"Ain't wrong, though. Besides, if I tried, your cop boyfriend'll be all over my ass." 

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, then leaned comfortably against him and stretched your legs out along the dash again. "Shane's not my boyfriend." 

"Yeah? Ya told him that, 'cause he sure fuckin' acts like it." 

"Stop," you said mildly. "We're friends. He's a good man; give him a shot." 

"Why you care if I get along with him if you're just friends?" Daryl asked. "Get your fuckin' head off my shoulder, damn. Cain't shoot if somethin' happens." 

You ignored him and stayed put. "If something happens, I'll shoot." 

"Get the hell off me," he repeated, jerking his shoulder until you groaned and leaned against the seat instead.

"You happy, asshole?" you mumbled. 

"Yeah, I'm dancin' a jig. How the hell ya think ya gonna shoot with no gun? Shouldn't kept Shane's," he said, tossing his head and reaching into his pocket to pull out a carton of cigarettes. 

"Now I see why you wanted me to move," you muttered as he lit up. "Share, man." 

"Bad for ya lungs." 

"Are you shittin' me right now? Give me a goddamn cigarette, Darrie," you told him, and leaned over to snatch the box from his hand. 

He held it out the window, grinning and laughing as you tugged at his arm and he tried to see over you to drive. 

"You're such an asshole," you complained when he finally relented and gave you one. "I'm not taking Shane's gun. He needs it. Maybe I'll ask Rick if I can have one from his stash. Not that I really want one. That's your thing, not mine." 

"Gotta protect yourself, Ace. We ain't always around to do it for ya. You gonna buddy up with the other cop now too?" Daryl asked around the cigarette. 

"I'm not gonna buddy up with anyone," you fired back, getting annoyed. "And I do take care of myself, thank you very much. Keep it up and I'll sleep with Shane again just to piss you off. Or maybe I'll hook up with Glenn if he wants. He's nice." 

Daryl snorted, knowing an empty threat when he heard one. You didn't like sex well enough to just use it to cause drama, and he knew it. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye when you went quiet. 

"Aight, little sister?" he asked softly. 

You shook yourself and nodded, taking another deep drag and blowing the smoke from your nose. "Yeah, sorry. Hey, Merle didn't actually kill Malcolm, did he?" 

Daryl shrugged. "Hell if I know. He wanted to. Shit, I wanted to. Why didn't ya call me sooner? I know we argue all the damn time, but you're my sister. I'd have been there." 

You sighed and rubbed at your cheek under the bruise from Ed. The swelling had at least started to go down a little, so that was good. 

"I know that," you told him. "I know you would have. Shane- Shane tried to help me when he knocked me out. He filled out a report, filled out a restraining order, was all set to rush everything through the system for me and nail Mal's ass to the floor. And the worst part was, before he slapped me? I was done. I was over it and him. But then Shane- I don't know, Dar. You know what it was like, with Will. He got in our heads. Mal did the same." 

Daryl scoffed. "Will got in your head, sis. He didn't even try to get in mine and Merle's." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" You turned to him, confused. "Come on, he'd have those periods- weeks, days- where he was so damn nice. Buy us shit, spend time with us, clean everything up, take us places." 

Daryl was shaking his head at you. "Ace, that was you. He did all that for you. He never did that bullshit with me'n Merle." 

Your feet came off the dash with a thud as you spun to face him. "Are you serious? Why?" 

"Because, Ace- you. That's why," Daryl muttered, reaching for your hand. "You remember how you were as a kid? Shit, girl. You kept the damn place clean, soon's ya could reach the stove you were cookin' for him and us, ya had that wide-eyed innocent look down pat when CPS came by. He coached ya into all that with his bullshit affection. When he'd beat up on Merle or on me, you'd get pissed and buck up to him. Then he'd do it all again. Kept ya in line. And Merle'n me, he didn't need to keep us toein' the line 'cause we couldn't say nothin' to CPS without puttin' you at risk. Not once we realized he'd played us against you, taught ya to lie so damn well you practically believed it. And the system ain't no place for anyone, much less a place we wanted to send our fuckin' sister." 

"Oh my god," you whispered, eyes closing as your childhood took on a whole new light. "Oh my god. I knew- I knew he was training me to be a good little liar. I didn't- shit, Mal did the same fuckin' thing- Daryl-" 

He tugged you back against him for a hug. "Yeah, I figure'd that out. I only ever saw ya when ya weren't with him or when things was goin' good. 'Course I spent all my time bein' pissed you hardly called or wanted to hang, so I wasn't- wasn't payin' attention none when we did. Thought you were doin' the best of us all, didn't need rescuin'. Soon as you called and said you needed help I put two and two together and- shit, sis, I'm sorry." 

"Merle's a pretty big fuckin' distraction," you mumbled. "And Mal- shit. Mal never said 'don't do this; don't see this person anymore'. But he made it so fucking hard, Dar. I'd try to get together with you guys or Shane or anyone really, and he'd have some emergency or he'd pick a fight or he'd say I was cheating on him, and hell. I did half the work for him. Goddamn it." 

Daryl shrugged. "Ain't your fault, baby sis." 

"Again, I am five minutes younger than you," you said absently. "Jesus. The things you start to realize after you're away from people. Shit." 

"Yeah. Hey, that one of yours?" 

You glanced out the window at a truly vile suggestion spray painted on a barn he pointed to and slapped him on the back of the head. "Asshole." 

He grinned at you and you grinned back, willing to let the subject drop like he was so obviously trying to do. You were grateful, since talking about all that shit wasn't something you were used to or particularly good at. You fell into petty bickering and easy insults, and enjoyed the wind in your face and the quiet. 

Until the RV broke down. 

Shane went ahead to see what he could find to fix the van while everyone else hovered over Jim. The man was bad off and your heart hurt for him, because even you could see he wasn't going to make it to the CDC. 

You wandered away from the group crowding the RV and perched on the hood of Rick's car, watching the road ahead where Shane and T Dog had disappeared as you chewed on your lip. Daryl came over and leaned beside you. 

"How's Jim?" you asked. 

"Wants to be left behind." 

"Shit," you muttered. "This fucking sucks. What the hell happened to the world?" 

"Yeah, that is the question, ain't it?" Daryl answered. "Gotta get ya usin' the damn crossbow. At least get ya a knife or somethin'." 

You scoffed. "I cannot and will not attempt to use that beast, Dar. I've never been able to draw it and I don't see that changing now. A knife I'd take, I guess. For emergencies."

"The fuck you so against this shit?" Daryl asked. "Ya know how to shoot, how to fight. Just get Rick to give you a damn gun and suck it up." 

You rolled your eyes and let out a breath of relief when you saw Shane's Jeep heading back your way. "I don't like violence, asshole. I'd rather use words to solve my problems." 

Daryl's scoff was scornful enough to peel paint from the car you were sitting on. "Yeah, talk a damn walker outta bitin' ya. You're gettin' a gun and a knife an' you'll deal with it. I'll ask Rick if you don't." 

"Bite me, Darrie," you said pleasantly as you hopped from the hood of the car and headed to where Shane was getting out of his Jeep. 

"Would you fuckin' quit that!" 

You took one look at Shane as he walked away from Jim and touched Daryl's arm. "Hey, bro. I'm hopping in with Shane for awhile, ok?" 

Daryl glanced at him and his face softened for a second. "Yeah. Looks like he needs it. I'm good. Be nice to have some fuckin' peace an' quiet." 

"Shut up, you love me," you told him, bumping his shoulder with yours as you headed Shane's way. "Hey, Dickhead, get a ride?" 

You fell into step with him and flashed him a smiled when he adjusted his hat and glanced at you. 

"Ain't going to be very good company, Slugger," he warned you. 

You shrugged. "Didn't ask you to entertain me. I asked for a ride." 

You rode in easy silence with him, and you could see the wheels churning in his mind. Eventually, when he didn't speak (he had not been kidding about not being much company) you reached over and took his hand. 

"It's going to be ok, Shane," you said simply, and went back to staring out the window. 

He kept his fingers locked with yours until you pulled up to your destination. 

Both of you stared over the expanse of decaying bodies, the tank, and the closed down building. 

"Yeah, this looks fuckin' great," Shane muttered. "Good call, Rick." 

He pulled his Glock from the holster and handed it to you. You grimaced, but thought of Daryl's ultimatum and took it with a sigh. You hopped out as Shane grabbed his shotgun from the backseat. He stalked around the Jeep while the others started to come out of the vehicles and condense into a knot of disgusted faces. 

Shane grabbed your arm and leaned close. "Listen to me, Ace. You stay at my back, you hear me? Please." 

His eyes were sparking with barely suppressed everything- worry, panic, rage, guilt. You nodded and popped the magazine from the Glock, checked it, and shoved it back in. You racked one into the chamber and popped the safety off, taking a solid two-handed grip and meeting Shane's stormy eyes. 

"I know how to handle myself, Shane. You don't have to worry about me," you told him firmly. 

He snorted. "I'm always worried about you, Slugger. Alright everybody, let's go. Stay close and stay quiet." 

Daryl handed you a bandanna and you took a minute to tie it over the lower half of your face, because holy hell the smell and the flies were bad. You stayed glued to Shane's back like he'd asked, keeping an eye on Carol and Sophia and Lori and Carl in the middle of the pack as you all made your way to the closed doors. 

Of course they were locked and nothing was moving when Shane and Rick started rattling them. Sunset was coming on rapidly and everyone was panicking, and then Daryl's voice cut the general muttering. 

"Walkers!" he snapped. 

Sure enough, the dead were starting to come toward you. Pandemonium descended, and your asshole brother whom you loved very much, really you did, gave into his impulse control problems and started yelling at Rick. 

"You lead us into a damn graveyard!" 

You shoved your way between him and Rick, begging him to shut up, just shut up; Rick made a call, damn it. 

"Rick, this is a dead end," Shane said grimly. "Do you hear me? No blame." 

"We can't be this close to the city after dark," Lori pleaded, and Rick was still studying the doors like the secret to saving humanity was behind them. 

Shane started in on Rick about Fort Benning, voices rose in panic, Daryl's crossbow started twanging. Shane's hand clamped on your arm and he started to push you ahead of him with the others, muttering under his breath in a steady stream of obscenities and rants about damn fools too stubborn for their own good. 

And the doors opened when Rick pleaded with them. 

Shane's babble cut off mid-stream as all of you whipped around to stare. "Son of a bitch," he whispered. "He did it again. The fucker did it again. It's fucking middle school all over again." 

\-- You will never believe what Rick did today. 

You glanced at your phone and couldn't help the smile, but you looked around rapidly before responding. Mal was deeply engrossed in a conversation with one of the producers who were trying to get Grave Behavior a record deal, so you risked a rapid reply under the table. 

\-- Yeah? He flood his basement again?

You lay your phone in your lap and took a sip of bad champagne, going back to sketching this group of wanna-bes and the people who could make them stars. That was uncharitable, you supposed, but you hadn't wanted to be here. You and Mal weren't even together, but he'd begged and begged you to come with him. He'd broken up with his latest groupie bimbo- or she'd broken up with him- and he'd 'needed' a date. It would have been 'awful' if he'd showed up without one. The way he'd made it seem, his whole career could have been derailed if he hadn't brought someone to hang off his arm tonight. 

You'd given in to get him to stop blowing up your phone, and because you actually gave a shit about his career, after all. He was good, and the boys in the band deserved the recognition they were getting. They'd busted ass to make it to the top of the bar scene, and now they were poised to break out into the big time- if they could just land a contract with one of the big, important assholes here. You didn't want to hold them back from that, any of them. They were good guys, and if giving up one of your evenings off would help them out then you would.

\-- No, that would be something I could believe. How the fuck the man continues to make the impossible happen is beyond me.

Of course, Mal had promptly ignored you since the minute you set foot in the place and you were fucking annoyed by that, thanks a lot. You could talk to anyone- a handy skill for a bartender- but that didn't mean you wanted to, damn it. 

\-- Seriously, Slugger, the man works miracles. We're out on this case, right, and it's a domestic disturbance call. The woman is beat six ways from Sunday, bleeding, crying, screaming at him in the front yard with a frying pan in her hands. I'm holding back her asshole of a husband who has blood on his knuckles and a goose egg on his head and clearly wants to go in for round two. And Rick fuckin' Grimes is trying to get this woman to put down the pan, but she is out for blood.

You winced, able to imagine the scene all too clearly. 

\-- Shit. What happened?

This party was boring, you thought while waiting for his reply. You doodled shapes in the condensation forming on the table around your water glass and took another sip of champagne. 

It wasn't any better than the first. Across the room, Mal was shaking hands with someone with his schmooze face firmly in place and your nose wrinkled. 

\-- He gets that fucking look and starts talking to her all low and quiet. I can't hear what he's saying, because I'm busy yelling at the fat redneck bastard in front of me. Then he takes a swing- he misses, don't worry, I'm fine- and I get him in cuffs and in the car. 

\-- and Rick comes over as I'm slamming the door and the woman's stopped crying, Rick's grabbing the first aid kit, and has gotten her to agree to take their kids- three kids, Ace, all in the house and terrified and we didn't even know- and go to her mama's house for the night. Rick's gotten her the paperwork for filing a report and a restraining order, given her the card of a good divorce lawyer who handles abuse cases regularly, and already called in CPS. 

\-- All while I cuffed a man and got him in the car. Seriously, how the fuck does Rick do it? 

Your heart had started pounding when Shane said the man took a swing at him, picturing Will- it was always Will's face on the domestic disturbance perps in Shane's stories- knocking Shane out. 

It didn't matter that you knew for a fact Shane was built and you'd seen him barely sway when he took a punch to the face one night. You'd been getting into some trouble together and an asshole decided to try to steal from a couple of college girls walking home from the bar. Shane's objection had lead to one fucker taking a cheap shot and Shane had taken it and just absorbed it somehow. 

None of that mattered, because in your mind Will could hurt everyone. Anyone. 

The subsequent messages settled you back down a little, but not enough. 

\-- Shit. Sounds crazy. Don't discount taking down the assholes; if Rick had had to worry about him, he wouldn't have been able to do all that. 

Mal caught your eye from across the room, frowning at you, and you slid your phone back into the pocket of your jumpsuit with a smile for him. He waved you over and you rose reluctantly, scooping up your glass and going to play arm candy for Mal. In your pocket, your phone buzzed against your leg three times and you wished you could just go sit in the corner and text Shane. 

Or better yet, go home and text Shane.

But you chatted executives and producers and whoever else up until Mal pulled you to the side, grip on your arm hard enough you wondered if he'd leave a mark. 

"Can't act like you give a shit about me for one evening, can you?" he hissed in your ear. "Just leave if you don't want to be here." 

You stared at him. "Mal, you begged me to come and ignored me for hours. I don't want to be here. We're not dating." 

His face got stormy, but you saw the way his eyes shifted to the crowd and grew calculating. His hand gentled and his eyes turned pleading and huge. 

"Just stay for a little while longer. I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight." 

You sighed, turned, and set down your champagne glass firmly on a nearby table. "No. I'm not part of your drama. I'm not going home with you tonight and you're not going back to my place. We're not together, Mal. I'm leaving." 

"No, wait, please," he said catching your arm dramatically. 

You gritted your teeth and shook his hand off your arm, reaching into your pocket to pull your phone out. 

Mal snatched it from your hand and snarled at it, shoving it back into your hands before you could ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. "I should have known! Shane again! Fine. Go be with him if that's what you really want. We're done, YN!" 

You stared at him blankly, anger boiling when you realized he'd played you for this scene right here. "You know what? You're an asshole," you whispered to him. "Don't call me tomorrow like you're going to. I won't answer." 

You spun on your heel and stalked out, swiping tears from your eyes and texting with one hand. 

\-- Shane? Can you come to Atlanta? 

You hailed a cab and gave the driver your address, cursing yourself for a damn fool. Your phone buzzed in your hand. 

\-- be there in an hour

\-- It takes you two to get up here?

\-- not if I drive fast enough it doesn't

You laughed through the tears, knowing that should have worried you. It just made you happy. Then you looked at your arm to make sure Mal hadn't left any bruises you needed to cover.


	20. Lie #20: "I Don't Sleep With Customers" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
past sexual abuse  
dub con/ rape/ non-con elements as part of domestic abuse  
mild smut

It was one man. 

He was a lone scientist with a military-grade gun in his hands, who responded to Rick's plea that all you wanted was a chance with "that's asking an awful lot these days." 

But as Shane shook his head and looked at you with complete disbelief in his eyes, Rick talked the man into letting you stay. 

You frowned a little at 'once this door closes, it stays closed' because that sounded ominous to your ears. Shelter was shelter, however, and there weren't exactly any other options coming your way. Jenner- the doctor- asked for a blood test from each of you. Rick agreed readily, and then Shane and Daryl both were glaring at you to stay put at they ran with Rick and Glenn to bring everyone's gear inside. 

Full dark fell while you covered them from just outside the door, daring them to argue about it with you. They chose not to, much to your satisfaction. 

As soon as Jenner sealed the doors, you handed Shane back his gun with a grimace. Daryl glared at you and you rolled your eyes at him. 

"We're inside and heading underground," you muttered when you were all packed into the elevator together. "I'm safe enough, thanks." 

"Fine," he muttered back. "But if we leave here, you're gettin' one." 

"One what?" Shane asked from your other side. 

"A fuckin' gun," Daryl told him. "Maybe from that big-ass bag of 'em." 

Shane looked at you. "Why didn't you take mine?" 

"Because I don't want a gun," you said firmly. "We're safe here. Right, doc?" 

Jenner glanced over at you. "Safe enough inside, yes." 

Daryl eyed him suspiciously. "Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?" 

"Dar-" you started, but Jenner shrugged. 

"Well, there were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself. You all look harmless enough. Except you," he said with a smile Carl's way. "I'll have to keep my eye on you." 

Jenner was the last man standing when everyone else abandoned their posts. It'd been just him and his computer AI, Vi, since shortly after the outbreak began. 

He drew blood from each of you, citing the need to be thorough when Andrea questioned the point of it all. You privately agreed with her, but also who cared? If the price of admission into a underground bunker with lights, air conditioning, and computers was a vial of blood, you'd pay and then give him some extra. 

Shane didn't appreciate that suggestion, however. 

Of course, when Andrea damn near passed out when she stood and Jenner realized your group hadn't eaten since the fish fry, you found yourself even more willing to give the man anything and everything he wanted. 

He provided your group with a feast. Complete with wine and harder booze for those that wanted it. 

You took one look at the way Dale handled a bottle of wine and bumped him out of the way, pouring for everyone present and even finding a Pepsi and making Shane a Jack and Pepsi. Wasn't exactly the same, but he flashed you a grin when you leaned over his shoulder to put it in front of him. 

He caught your hand on your second trip by. "Sit, Ace. Eat. Have a damn drink yourself. This isn't the Lullaby." 

You laughed and started to brush him off, because you missed the Lullaby, damn it. You missed tending bar. But shit- his Jack and Pepsi looked damn good. You finally agreed, and plopped down to eat, sip, and listen to everyone talk. Shane tossed his arm over your shoulders and you leaned into his side, stealing off his plate when he wasn't looking. 

You still owed him for dumping you in the lake, you realized. You'd need to come up with suitable retribution now that you were somewhere safe. And fed. 

Laughter got louder, Daryl's accent got worse, and Mr. Upstanding Officer himself let Carl have a little wine. The kid made a face and Lori took the glass from him as the laughter roared around the table. 

"Just stick to soda pop, little man," Shane advised. 

"Not you, Glenn!" Daryl called, leaning over to refill Glenn's glass. Glenn looked baffled and Daryl waved the bottle as he continued. "Keep drinkin', man, I wanna see how red your face can get." 

Everyone laughed at that one but you, eyeing Daryl sideways. That sounded too close to Will's kind of comment, and you remembered why you didn't drink with your brothers- and why you didn't drink more than a glass or two period. 

But Shane refilled your glass with straight Jack when you finished what you'd mixed and you didn't want to say anything, so you drank that too as the conversation and laughter echoed around. Rick toasted the doctor, Shane stuck his foot in it and killed the buzz, and you ended up leaning across him with your hand over his mouth, laughing as you apologized to Jenner and the rest of the group. 

Shane, asshole that he was, licked your palm to make you let go and let him speak again. You squealed, jerked away from him, and complained loudly about how disgusting that was until Daryl started pelting you with cracker packets to get you to shut up and the good mood was restored. 

Shane shot you an exasperated look as you poured a third whiskey and you stuck your tongue out at him. You watched the merriment around the cafeteria and hummed under your breath, wishing you had your sketchbook so you could capture these faces- all of them smiling, open, relaxed, and relieved. 

Rick had his uniform shirt partly unbuttoned, smiling at Lori over Carl's head, his arm stretched along the back of the kid's chair. Lori smiling back at Rick behind her wineglass, the two of them making the kind of heart eyes at each other that told everyone in the vicinity that they were definitely going to fuck later. 

You sighed a little, wondering how long it had been since you'd actually enjoyed sex. A long damn time, you thought with a grimace. 

Malcolm's hand slid up your hip, over your side, and higher to grip your breast. You groaned and elbowed at him, mumbling a 'not now, I'm exhausted'. 

You'd been working last night when he came in with earrings, a tearful apology for your latest argument, and a list of reasons why you should take him back. You were glad Shane had left already, not staying until last call tonight because he had to report in even earlier than normal tomorrow- today, now- because you had a feeling it would have gotten nasty otherwise. Every time Shane and Mal were in the bar together, Mal turned into the most asshole version of himself you'd experienced, and you'd gotten to the point of asking Shane if he could avoid live-music nights. 

Shane had scoffed and at first refused, but finally shrugged and agreed. He'd been pissed, but he muttered that Grave Behavior wasn't that good anyway, and he only came for the company. 

He was gone when Mal came in, and after two hours of Mal harassing you, Jason was about to kick him out and report him to Ellie and Ben when you finally gave in and agreed to go home with him. 

His hand left your body and you started to fall back asleep almost immediately. Moments later, he pressed against your ass, like poking you with his dick would make you want to be more in the mood. His hand slid around you again and he started kissing the back of your neck. 

"Mal, come on, I'm so tired," you protested, sliding away slightly. He pulled you back to him. 

"That's fine," he whispered in your ear. "You don't have to do anything. You just lay there and I'll do all the work." 

He grabbed your hand and slid it down into his pants, pressing your hand to him and groaning like he was ready to go right then. You did a rapid calculation of how badly you wanted to refuse, but your exhibit was opening at Maria's gallery later in the week and you didn't want to risk having to cover or explain any bruises. It was just easier to give in, damn it. 

Mal used your hesitation to slide your leggings down and push you over onto your stomach, whispering into your ear. He was a dirty talker and frankly it did nothing for you, and you grimaced into the pillow and made the appropriate noises while mentally reviewing where you were putting each of your pieces.

You emptied your glass again to drive thoughts of Mal and sex away, trying instead to commit these faces, these expressions, to memory for later. Had to be paper and pencil in this place somewhere right? Shit, give you a napkin and a pen and you'd be happy.

Shane poured more into his glass, noticed yours was empty, and filled yours again too. He was smiling, but there was a shadow in his eyes that hadn't left all damn day, and you wanted to make him talk to you. But not here, not in the middle of the celebration.

T Dog had his head thrown back, laughing. Carol dished up more food for Sophia, shy and quiet but smiling brighter than you'd ever seen the little girl smile before. Jaqui held Andrea's hand, the two of them not as caught up in the merriment as everyone else. Your heart ached for Andrea, and you wished you could give her the drawing you'd done of her and Amy right before- well, right before. 

You'd looked but hadn't seen your sketchbook anywhere after the fight. You wondered if when you'd tossed it, it had ended up in the fire. Oh well, you thought. 

Daryl was on his way to shitfaced, his movements just a little too big, a little too loud. Glenn couldn't stop smiling and everyone lost it when he nearly fell off the counter he was perched on because he was laughing so hard, and that's when Jenner suggested he show you where you could sleep. 

You followed the group, only listening with half an ear as he talked about couches and cots because you'd swiped the bottle of Jack on the way out. Rick, Daryl, and Shane all had wine in their hands so you didn't feel so bad. In fact, you were feeling pretty damn good; all loose and limber with that comfortable lazy heat curling low in your stomach that signaled you should have stopped about two drinks ago. 

You took another one and tuned back in when Jenner said to go easy on the hot water if you got showers. 

"Like that's a fucking if," you said. "I'm gonna fight anyone who tries to stop me! God, I wish I had hair dye. I'd go blue again." 

Shane and Daryl both laughed. 

"Hell, Slugger, the way this place is stocked, the man might just have some." 

You picked a room and dumped your stuff on the floor, pulling out the last of your reasonably clean clothes- jeans, a tank, underwear, bralette. You met Carol in the hallway with your arms full of clothes and your bottle of booze.

"I wonder if he has a washing machine in here," Carol said as you headed into bathroom together. 

You smiled at her. "God, I hope so. Can you imagine? Clean clothes, walls, hot water?" 

It seemed like the whole damn group had decided to use the showers at once, and you heard more delighted laughter, happy moans and voices praising the gods of soap and shampoo, and you grinned as you stepped under your own spray. You left the bottle on the bench with your clean clothes, having just enough self-preservational skills to not take it under the spray with you, though it was a near damn thing. 

It was a goddamn miracle, you thought as you let the water pound onto your head and soak your hair. Hot water. The simplest thing in the universe, and even more than the booze still flooding your system, you thought you might have missed this. Being clean and standing under hot fucking water. 

You heard Shane's voice moving down the row of stalls, heard Daryl's asshole laugh from further up. The stall beside you opened and closed, the water started as you scrubbed your scalp for the third time, and you heard Shane let out a long groan. 

Yeah, you could relate to that, Deputy Walsh, you thought as you rinsed. 

From the other side of you came Lori's voice in a murmur, Rick's chuckle joining hers and you scoffed. Sure enough, you thought. They were definitely having shower sex. 

You'd had shower sex exactly once in your life, you mused. One night, post-work, with the man in the next stall over, who at the time had been almost a complete stranger- but had never really felt like one. Hell, you'd had sex all over your apartment with Shane. 

And it had been damn good. You could feel yourself smiling as you scrubbed dirt and whatever from your skin, lingering longer than you really needed to in the warmth and steam. 

You didn't like sex. Not really. Most of the time, it was a chore you crossed off the list, a thing you did so Mal would be happy; something you tuned out of and generally dismissed as unnecessary. Your vibrator was your friend, but for the most part you could take or leave having someone else's hands and body on yours. Mostly leave, if you were being honest.

Will hadn't- Will had never touched you, but he'd made enough comments as you grew up that you knew he looked at you and saw 'female' not 'daughter'. That was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth at the thought of sex. 

Then Mal made sex such a big goddamn deal. And sure, when you and Mal were in an off-again moment, you'd picked up a one night stand or two. Even been on a couple of dates before hooking up with someone, trying it because Shane said it'd probably be better. It was fine; it was pleasant. But still. It was just- something you did. Not something you craved, something you wanted because it felt good. 

Cook food, clean your apartment, go to work, bail Merle out of jail, sex- check, check, check, check, check. 

Except. 

You rarely let yourself think about it, rarely let yourself remember what that night with Shane was like. He'd been nearly a stranger, a customer in your bar, and you'd broken every fucking rule you had bringing him back to your place. But that self-confident smile, the way he carried himself, the way he stayed and helped you close down the place all the while you talked and laughed and got to know each other- 

You'd wanted him. That hadn't happened since you'd seen Mal walk into the Lullaby and play on stage the first time, six years after you'd graduated high school with him. He'd been all long hair, endless blue eyes, smokey voice in the spotlight with his fingers on the strings, and you'd been drooling. 

Shane was the same way, but different. You'd watched him flip a chair up one handed and set it on the table, gesturing with the other and talking about 'real music'- making fun of your pop playlist, but you didn't fucking care, you liked what you liked damn it- and you'd just- 

Wanted. 

You'd wanted to know if his palms would be rough on your skin; you'd wanted to know the taste of his lips, if the Jack and Coke he'd been drinking would linger on them; and you'd wanted to know if he'd be aggressive and urgent or slow and sweet or some perfect, heady mix of the two. You'd wanted, and goddamn, you'd taken. 

You shut the water off with a grimace, reaching for the bottle before you even went for a towel or your clothes. A long, burning pull later and you opened your eyes, pressing your forehead to the wall and finally admitting to yourself that here and now, knowing he was just on the other side of that wall- you wanted tonight, too. 

Goddamn it. 

You grimaced, leaning over the bar and talking to Shane. Turns out, the dickhead wasn't that bad when he wasn't trying bullshit like google-ordering. 

"No, I mean, sure, he's an asshole for dumping me. But he isn't that bad. He'll probably be back in a week anyway, begging me to come back," you said with a wave. "He lives off the drama, that's all."

Shane shook his head and took another sip from the completely respectable Jack and Coke he'd ordered tonight. He'd been here for hours already and it was a slow as fuck Thursday night. You'd be closing at midnight tonight- in thirty minutes, so it was time for last call- and you'd sent Jason home already. Most of the waitstaff were gone too, Julie mouthing 'thank you' when she ran out the door to head home early to her little girl. 

"Don't take him back," Shane said bluntly. "Look, I know we don't know each other that great, but I'm serious. That's a dick move. I am one; I should know." 

You grinned at him in appreciation but waved that off. "I don't know. He's really sweet most of the time. Being an artist is hard. I do some pretty messed up shit when I'm involved in a commission." 

"You do the label outside?" he asked. 

"Mmhhmm. Ben and Ellie let me play around on their walls a lot. They're good people," you said with a fond smile. "Ok, I gotta declare last call. Be right back." 

You shoved off the bar and headed toward the bell, glancing over the handful of die hard drinkers scattered around the place. You clanged the bell twice, paused as all eyes turned to you, and shrugged. "I'm not yelling tonight. If you want it, order it." 

Laughter rippled the room and every hand in the place went up. You groaned. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Fine! It'll take me a minute; I sent Jason home." 

"Yeah, miss, can I get a flaming shot?" Shane called, and you glared at him as you started pulling drafts. 

"No you may the hell not!"

He laughed as you lined mugs up on the bar, popped the tops from a couple of bottled beers, and poured one Irish neat. 

"Come and get 'em, the waitstaff's gone," you called to the room. They did, all of them regulars who went through this routine every week at least once and muttered thanks as they picked up their stuff. "Yeah, yeah. Money talks, you assholes," you said cheerfully. 

You held up the bottle of Jack and looked at Shane in question. He hesitated but nodded, and you refilled his Jack and Coke and hopped up to sit on the worktop behind the bar, keeping an eye on your people, and started punching things into the POS computer to update and close out tabs. 

"So, why don't you get revenge?" Shane asked abruptly. 

"Huh?" you asked, distracted. "On who?" 

"Everyone," he said in a total deadpan and you cracked up. "Naw, I mean the asshole. Malcolm." 

"He's not an asshole," you said with a roll of your eyes. "But how?" 

"I don't know. Key his car. De-string his guitar. Sleep with one of his friends- no, actually, don't do that. I've been there before, I do not recommend it. It doesn't end well," he corrected with a grimace. 

You snorted. "Naw, I don't do revenge sex anyway. Honestly, I could take or leave sex in general." 

"How the hell's that?" he said, sounding genuinely shocked. "Sex is- Slugger, sex is what makes dealin' with assholes worth it." 

You laughed as Tom, one of your three-times-a-week regulars, brought his table's mugs up, dropped them on the bar, and handed you two hundreds. 

"Keep the change, Ace," he mumbled, and you said a grateful thank you. 

Shane lifted one eyebrow as you closed the tab and whistled. "How much he leave you?" 

"Forty. Shit, I owe Tom a big sloppy kiss on Monday," you mumbled. "That's how we roll." 

"Shit, that's nice. There, go have sex with him," Shane said with a wave of his hand toward the door. Then he winced when you stared at him. "Oh fuck me. I did not mean that to sound so..." 

"Pimp-like?" you suggested before cracking up. He laughed too, hand over his face in embarrassment. "Don't worry about it. I don't sleep with customers. Gets too messy. Also, Tom's married to Gary who he just left with, and shit, sex isn't even that fun." 

"Jesus, girl, that makes me sad," he muttered into his drink. 

By now the place was nearly empty, all the tabs were paid, and you rolled your eyes. "Aight, declaring us closed. Get the hell out if you're still here! I'm cleaning up," you called to the last few, who stood talking by the jukebox. 

Shane set his drink down and reached for his wallet. "I'll get out of your hair." 

"Oh, sit down. You can finish your drink, Dickhead. They're here twice a week. Jody! Use the staff code and fire up my playlist!" you yelled to one of the women. 

She waved a hand at you and moved to the jukebox, and Shane settled back into place and picked up his drink as you started breaking down the bar. He grinned as cheerful, upbeat guitar filled the air and you danced around to Taylor Swift putting bottles away, dumping unused lemons and limes and cherries from the dividers and wiping down counters. 

"Sorry, I can't get off how you think sex isn't that fun," Shane called to you as you moved around to wipe the tables, grooving along as the jukebox changed to the Black Crowes. 

You laughed. "I don't know. It just... doesn't feel that great. Maybe it's just me." 

He shook his head and mumbled something. 

"What was that?" you asked, amused, and he turned red to his hair. 

"I said," he called louder, hiding behind his glass, "you're just not doin' it right." 

You had to sit down you were laughing so hard. "But you do, do you?" you shot back at him and he smirked and drained his drink. 

"Sweetheart, you got no idea." 

You shook your head again and finished the last table. "Someone's confident. Here, help me with these chairs since you're still here. Upside down on the tables." 

You eyed him as you talked and flipped chairs so the morning shift could do the floors. He was worth eyeing, you admitted, and to your surprise found you wanted to know what those hands felt like on you. You wanted to know what all that thick hair felt like between your fingers. 

Shit, you wanted to know if he gave as good as he talked. 

The place closed up for the night, he walked you out and you hesitated. "So," you said, crossing your arms. 

The wind picked up and the hair you'd let down from your work bun ended up all over your face. You sighed dramatically as Shane laughed. Then he reached out and tucked it behind your ear gently, and that was it. You were done. 

"My place isn't far," you said softly, raising an eyebrow. "Wanna see if you do it right after all?" 

He looked surprised, but started to smile slowly. "Thought you didn't sleep with customers." 

You shrugged. "Well, last call makes liars out of all of us. And hell, I think maybe after tonight, we just might be friends."


	21. Lie #21: "This Ain't Smart, Slugger" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
smut-adjacent

Shane stood in the shower and sure, he enjoyed it, but it wasn't the near-religious experience the others seemed to be having. He'd brought a bottle of the good doc's wine with him, shifting over from the Jack he and Slugger had been working on together when he accidentally killed the celebratory buzz. 

Ace half in his lap, apologizing to everyone with her hand slapped over his mouth, popped into his head, and he smiled at the look of surprised disgust on her face when he'd gone for it and licked her hand. 

Yeah, Shane was going to pay for that one later when she remembered he'd gotten two on her now, what with dumping her in the lake, and she hadn't returned fire once. 

He couldn't settle, after the shower, wandering restlessly instead. He should take Ace her sketchbook back. He'd been watching her watch everyone around the table, and he wondered if she knew her fingers moved in the air sometimes when she was doing that, tiny motions like she was drawing or painting with nothing. Shane figured if he didn't take her the sketchbook, she'd find a pen and napkin, and by morning their celebration dinner would be memorialized for ever. 

Or at least until Ace forgot she'd drawn on the damn napkin and used it, something that had happened frequently at the bar until Shane started saving her drawings for her. He wondered if that pile of napkins was still in his house somewhere; a collection of Ace originals he'd teased her he was going to sell on E-bay one day when she was famous and make a goddamn fortune. 

He caught sight of Carol taking Carl and Sophia out of the rec room, Carl waving and calling goodnight. Shane waved back, happy at least one Grimes still considered him part of the family, and decided what the hell. He'd give the rec room a try. See what all Jenner had stashed away down here. Maybe he'd find something to distract him from this restlessness.

Lori stood with her back to the door, glancing over the bookshelves with a glass of wine in her hand. 

Shane hesitated, knowing he was just on the wrong side of sober and talking to Lori right now might be one of the worst ideas in the world. He turned to leave and she yelped.

"Jesus, Shane. You scared me," she said when he looked back at her, eyes wide. 

"Sorry. Just wanted to check the room out. I'm leavin'," he told her, taking another step toward the door again. Then he stopped, anger flashing through him. 

He spun around and took a few steps into the room instead, and she glanced up from the back of a book, confused. 

"Thought you were leaving."

"No. No, I'm not," he said. "See, I shouldn't have to leave a goddamn room just because you're in it, Lor. I shouldn't." 

She rolled her eyes, shoved off the wall she was leaning against, and started for the door, like being in the same room with him was too much of a chore for her to deal with. Shane sighed, wondering why he didn't just stop. Just stop trying to make things better. She obviously didn't want them to be. 

But Shane wanted his family back, damn it. He had Ace, and Carl, and Rick was alive, and Lori was right here. They were Shane's people, the ones he did everything for, and he hated being torn apart from them. 

"How can you treat me like this?" he asked her as she reached him. 

"You're kidding, right?" she said, so much goddamn scorn in her tone he considered, once again, giving up. 

But see, he'd been there when Lori said those same words to Rick when Rick announced he and Shane had been hired for the department. That time it'd been with excitement and disbelief, her hands pressed to her face in delight before she'd hugged both of them- both of them- and whispered that they were going to be amazing. 

"No. Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head and trying to will her into just fucking talking to him, goddamn it. 

"Because you told me my husband was dead!" she snapped at him, and Shane- 

Shane just lost it a little. He grabbed her arm, pleading with her to stop, to stop trying to leave and listen to him for two goddamn seconds. He had his hands on her shoulders, holding her in the room so she would fucking hear him. He told her he had his ear to Rick's chest and he didn't hear a heartbeat. He told her he'd tried; he said all the things he'd said to Ace on the RV roof when she'd cried with him and told him it wasn't his fault. 

And yet Lori looked at him like he was a liar and a sneak and a bastard, who'd left his best friend to die without even trying to save him. 

Shane tried to reason with her. He tried to get her to see. She knocked at his hands and attempted to go around him toward the door, so he stepped into her path, still asking her why she didn't believe him, especially when she'd been the one to change things between them, not him. 

Lori's eyes flashed, she shoved at him to get him to move, and when he didn't, she raked her nails down his throat hard enough Shane knew he'd be bleeding. 

He froze and looked at her, taking a deep breath. Then he swallowed the sadness and the anger, nodded once, and left her alone. 

Why didn't she get it? Why did she hear him say he'd tried his damn hardest and think he was lying to her? Shane didn't believe he'd ever done her that wrong, in the time before the world ended, to make her think so fucking little of him. And she hadn't seemed to think him so bad when she started kissing him, did she? 

Goddamn it, he thought. He didn't understand. Why was it Ace believed him and Lori didn't? Lori'd been in his life longer. Lori knew Shane inside out. Sure Slugger was his closest friend, his best friend besides Rick, but it should have been Lori who gave Shane the simple trust and acceptance he found every time his Ace told him he'd done everything he could. 

He wanted to talk to her. He decided he would; he'd go pour everything out to Ace and see if she could tell him what the hell he should do. He'd bring her her sketchbook, too, and find out if she really saw him like she'd drawn him standing over Ed. Like Lori saw him. Like Dale saw him now.

Like a monster.

Shane stalked into his room, angry and sad and fully intending to drink himself into oblivion while he talked to Ace. They were safe, after all, and he was a good chunk of the way there- why not go for it? Everyone else seemed to be. Plus, she'd crack a joke about bartenders and therapists, and if there was anything Shane needed right now, it was her to make him laugh.

He flung open the door and jerked it closed behind him with more force than he really needed to use, turned to find his pack, and came to an abrupt halt. His lips curved into a smile he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to and his feet carried him forward. He wouldn't have to go look for her after all, he thought, and already he didn't feel quite so awful, quite so alone.

"What the hell are you doing, Slugger?" he asked, looking down at her. 

She smiled without opening her eyes and lifted one hand in a wave. "Laying here, feelin' the rotation of the earth." 

Uh oh, Shane thought. The accent, that answer. Her current state of dress. Shane had some questions. "You lose some clothes there?" 

She opened her eyes then and confirmed Shane's suspicions when they were glassy and bright. Girl was well on her way to toasted, and Shane's own problems fell to the back of his mind as he tried to think if there was ever a time he'd seen her that way. 

There wasn't; he was sure of it. She'd have a glass or two, and maybe once he thought he could say she was definitely tipsy. But Ace knew her limits better than anyone else Shane had ever met, and certainly better than Shane himself knew his. He tried to remember how many drinks he'd poured for her during dinner and honestly couldn't.

She glanced down at herself now, stretched over Shane's cot with one of his shirts- and from what he could tell, not a whole damn lot else- on, and she laughed. She pulled her hands into the sleeves until only the tips of her fingers were visible and curled her bare legs up like a cat with a shrug. "I dunno. Like the way yours feels." 

"That right?" He couldn't help but think she looked damn good in it, like he had when she'd appropriated one he left at her place accidentally. The sight of her now made him think of tried, half-drunk three a.m.s on her couch, some pop star on her radio wailing about heartbreak, and the smell of paint and chalk and her voice singing along. He shook his head, trying to clear that image from his mind along with the unexpectedly urgent longing it inspired, and bent to pick up the bottle beside the cot.

He glanced at the amount left in it- not fucking much- and whistled. "Shit, Slugger. How much of this have you had?" 

She shrugged, closing her eyes again. "Some. Enough. Forget why I don't drink; it feels fuckin' good. Come here; lay down with me." 

"How drunk are you?" he asked, hesitant for some reason. Shane had the odd feeling that the world was shifting under his feet and he didn't know why or how to keep his balance. Her hand tugged insistently on his, and Shane found himself crawling into the space she made as she slid toward the wall like he was drawn by some invisible force, and that force looked like her eyes and sounded like her voice and carried her scent. 

She curled into him before he was really laying down, her hand sliding under the edge of his shirt and her fingers tracing lightly over the tattoo she'd designed him. 

Shane shivered and hated himself a little for it, even as a sinking feeling warred with the heat rising in his core. Something about her in his shirt again mixed with the aching loneliness of what was going on with Rick and Lori, and Shane wanted- 

Shane wanted things he couldn't, wouldn't, put into words, because that wasn't how they worked. She was his friend, and just her presence here, in his room waiting for him, had done enough. 

Plus, she was drunk. 

"Not that drunk," she dismissed his question as she snuggled up against him with a sigh. "You smell good. You got a shower too." 

"Yeah, it's amazing what hot water and soap can do," he said dryly. "Slugger, honey, not that you're ever unwelcome, but what the hell has gotten into you? We've been friends five years and I've never seen you like this." 

She sighed, a sound full of restless frustration that made him sternly tell his brain they were friends, damn it. "Lori and Rick had shower sex." 

Shane frowned at the ceiling. "Okay." 

"I heard them." 

"This is gonna go a lot faster if you use more than one sentence at a time, Ace," he said dryly. 

She huffed an annoyed breath and Shane rolled his eyes, but his fingers played with the ends of her hair and something about the way her leg hooked over his had him thinking about that night they'd spent together- in her bed, against her wall, in her own shower. 

Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

"I heard them. Do you know how long it's been since I've had good sex?" she demanded, and Shane's traitorous pulse fired up a notch. 

"Ah," he said. "No?" 

"Over a year. Over a year since I got laid and actually wanted it. And even then, it wasn't that good." She shoved up on her elbow to look down at him, gesturing with one hand as her hair, fluffy and clean and the closest he'd ever seen to her natural color, fell around her and begged for him to have his hands all in it. 

Shane's mouth went dry as his fingers ached with the effort of not tangling up in that hair and tugging, just enough for her breath to catch and eyes to flutter closed- 

He bit at his lower lip to keep from doing something stupid and her eyes followed the movement, her own lips parting slightly as she did. Fuck, he thought.

"This ain't smart, Slugger," he said, his voice distant in his ears as he forced the words out. Smart or not, Shane was thinking about the way she'd melted into his every touch that night; he was thinking about the way she'd said his name; he was thinking about that hair in his hands as he bit down on the back of her neck and the sound she'd made when he did.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him in genuine confusion, her hand trailing down his chest and fiddling with the first closed button on his shirt. "Why not?" 

"Why not? Shit, girl-" he grabbed at her hand to stop her from undoing his button, or maybe from undoing his mind; he honestly wasn't sure. He sat up and cupped her cheek in his other hand as she tried to tug free from his grasp. "'Cause we're friends, remember? Didn't we decide we were better off as friends than lovers?" 

"Pffft." 

Shane blinked at her, unable to stop the bemused smile when she waved that off with her nose wrinkled and her tongue stuck out at him. 

She took advantage of his distraction to get her hand free and slide it back up under his shirt and Shane was losing this war. He could feel it with every passing throb of his pulse and every movement she made; in the heat from her fingers on his skin and the way her hair fell over his shirt. His shirt she'd wandered to his room to steal from him, because she just liked how it feels. 

"Don't need to be lovers," she said with a roll of her eyes and withering scorn in the word. "I'm not asking you to go steady, Dickhead. We're already friends who slept together once. Why can't we be friends who slept together twice? Three times even? Come on, it's been over a year since I liked sex, and really good sex? Shit. I think the last time I really, really enjoyed it was you. I mean, at the risk of strokin' that goddamn ego of yours, you're pretty fuckin' good.... at fucking." 

She giggled and poked him in the chest. "Get it? Fuckin' good? At fucking?" 

"Yeah, Slugger, I got it," he told her, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes, trying to fight the inevitable.

She scooted in closer to him, fresh and clean and warm, and he tried to think of a reason to stop her. But she was kissing his neck and her teeth scraped his ear and her nails scratched lightly as she went after the button on his shirt again, and Shane wasn't exactly the superhero she seemed to think he was. 

"Damn it, YN," he whispered, and gave into the ache in his fingers, the ache in his lips. 

He tangled his hands in her hair and took her mouth with his, and that clenched-up, pent-up, restless feeling seeped away with the taste of her on his tongue and the hum of needy approval she made deep in her throat. He kissed her for a long time, and she melted against him, sinking into him and his touch like ice melting in the Georgia summer sun. 

"Damn it," he whispered again against her lips. "Slugger, listen. You gonna be mad at me for this in the morning? You know what you're getting into here?" 

She sat back from him a little, her expression soft and warm and open. She touched her fingers to his lips, hand sliding over his cheek in a soft caress he leaned into with a sigh, and smiled. "My Shane. Always the hero," she said gently. 

He was getting ready to deny that- 'cause he fucking well wasn't; a hero wouldn't be giving in no matter how badly he wanted to be tangled up with her, because this was a bad idea and Shane stood by that, damn it- but she flashed him a crooked grin and lifted her eyebrow in challenge. 

"I'm not that drunk, Dickhead. I can even say inebriated." 

"Fucking hell, it was one time," he complained with a roll of his eyes. But that was good enough for him, and he hoped it'd be good enough for her tomorrow.

She laughed as he pulled her close and eased her down onto her back, her hands tangling in his hair much as he'd done to hers. "More than one time. Many more times than one. So many times I can't- oh!" 

She broke off with a gasp when he bit at her collarbone and he grinned, pressing a kiss to the mark his teeth had left. She shivered and Shane remembered how goddamn easy it was to get her going. He fucking loved it.

"Shut up, Slugger," he told her fondly. "I can make other suggestions if you're too damn drunk to keep that mouth shut." 

"I'll show you what you can do with your suggest- Shane!" 

Oh, god, he'd almost forgotten how fun this was with her. He'd almost forgotten how fucking eager she was, arching into every touch like she couldn't get enough of it. Like she wanted to soak him up into every inch of her skin, until he seeped down into her bones and left his mark on her soul as well as on her body. 

And he'd almost forgotten what her steady, clever hands could coax out of him, he thought as they roamed over him now, digging into his shoulders, gliding down his back or his chest or gripping his ass to pull him closer to her. It was like she looked at him as her canvas and she was determined to paint him into a masterpiece, and when her hands and her mouth were moving over him, Shane believed it; he felt it in a way he didn't as soon as she wasn't in his arms. 

He'd almost forgotten how she whispered his name, over and over again when he did something right, and how when he took her up and over the edge his name fell like a prayer, ShaneShaneShaneShane, and he watched her fall apart. She never lost that edge of control, his Slugger. 

He hadn't realized it until recently, until the world ended and some of her close-guarded secrets started to come out, but she never dropped her guard. She never let anyone see past the front of 'it's ok; I'm ok' no matter what the world threw at her.

Except him. 

Except when she latched onto his arm in his tent and turned those wide, horrified eyes his way. Except when she let him hold her until she got her mask back in place. 

Except when she showed up drunk in his bed and wound her hands in his hair and as good as told him he was the best she'd ever had. Except when she dug her fingers into his arm again, his name on her lips with the mask crumbling and falling like she did. Except when she put everything in his hands and let him break her down, strip her bare, and watch everything she thought and felt travel through her face and echo in her catching breath and whispered, barely-uttered chant of his goddamn name. 

Shane was right on the edge, looking down into her wild, open eyes, and it wasn't enough. She wasn't close enough; wasn't surrounding him enough; consuming him enough physically like she'd consumed his mind from the moment he walked in his door tonight. He snarled in frustration and hauled her up and into his arms, holding her in place against him somehow, despite the way she'd sapped every bit of strength from him. She wrapped her legs around him, clung to him and threaded her fingers in his hair with her lips to his ear, whispering his name as she trembled in his arms. Shane buried his face in her neck, held her as close as he could get her, and let go with her scent all around him, her voice in his ear, and her name the only thought tumbling in his head. 

Shane had been texting Ace as he got ready for his date, telling her about the wonder that was Rick Grimes' ability to handle shit. He might have lied to her a little bit- the abusive fuck actually had gotten a hit on Shane, but only because Shane let him to make the charges stick a little harder, and it wasn't like he'd actually been hurt. 

She'd shot a few back, her tone seeming off, and Shane wondered if she was out Mal. 

He really shouldn't hate a man he barely knew quite so much, but whenever Shane would run into him in the Lullaby, Malcolm fucking Hall's ego filled the goddamn room and turned him into the worst kind of jerk Shane had ever seen. He honestly did not know what the hell Slugger saw in him that kept her going back all the damn time. 

He'd thought they were broken up right now, though, so maybe she was just elbows deep in a piece and distracted. She got like that when it took over her mind, and Shane had gotten used to her trailing into silence on the phone or not responding for hours even when they'd been in the middle of a conversation. He didn't care, but she always came back apologizing over and over for him having to put up with her shitty artist's temperament, until Shane would tell her to stop it already.

He was taking a lovely brunette named Aubrey out tonight, and he had every intention of getting lucky. She'd made it perfectly clear that she did too, and they enjoyed a nice meal before Aubrey whispered a suggestion that they go back to her place. 

Shane was fine with that, since he'd been so distracted with Rick's sorcery and texting Ace he hadn't really had time to give his place a once over before he left. Shane checked his phone when they got inside, just to see if she'd messaged him back since the last time- it'd been a few hours- before Aubrey slid it from his hands and whispered in his ear that 'she was in need of some assistance, Officer', and well- 

Shane was there to help, after all. 

Aubrey had fallen asleep and Shane was thinking about going home to do the same- this wasn't a sleep-over kind of date and both of them knew it- when his phone buzzed. 

\-- Shane? Can you come to Atlanta? 

He rolled to his feet and pulled on his pants with one hand, typing with the other.

\-- be there in an hour

Shane made it in 45 minutes, and still managed to leave Aubrey a note. 

It wasn't until a few hours later, staring up into the darkness as he listen to her breathing, that it hit him. 

He lay flat on his back, one arm under her head and already starting to tingle. The line of her body was pressed against his, her back to his side, her ass to his hip, one damn foot of hers shoved ruthlessly up under his knee for warmth. She'd passed out soon after, he thought with satisfaction, that vulnerability still in her eyes when she curled up against him with a lazy smile and mumbled something about him still having it. 

Shane wanted to tell her it was all her, but he'd just run his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. 

He couldn't, and he'd laid here, somehow both restless again and satisfied all at once. He sighed and shifted his arm a little beneath her cheek, trying to delay the inevitable moment when he couldn't feel his fingers and had to reclaim the arm. That's when it hit him, as he pondered the chain of events and conversation leading them here.

Good sex. She said she hadn't had 'good' sex in over a year. That it'd been that long since she'd gotten laid and wanted it. That she liked it. Not that she hadn't had any sex in that long. And that she hadn't enjoyed it in far longer than that. Her careful word choice, even as far drunk as she'd been, suddenly clicked in his mind.

Shane's hands started to shake, remembering her saying she'd had to 'prove she was loyal' to Mal after Shane'd written his number on her hand; remembering that night in the bar when she'd wrinkled her nose and said sex just wasn't all that fun. 

He turned onto his side as rage started to simmer in the back of his mind, wrapping himself around her in the dark as he put two and two together and got something hard and ugly as a result. Oh, they were going to talk in the morning, whether Ace wanted to or not. 

Shane had some questions that couldn't go unanswered any longer. If this was going to happen again- and as he fell asleep between her and the door, with an arm around her waist and her hair in his face, he knew he wanted this to happen again-he needed to know some things.


	22. Lie #22: "I Probably Didn't Mean Anything" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic abuse/violence  
implied/referenced rape/non con/dub con  
implied/referenced child abuse

You went from asleep to awake and in pain in about two seconds, sitting bolt upright before you realized what a colossally bad idea that was and ended up whimpering and clutching your head. 

Shane laughed from somewhere nearby. "There's a trashcan at your feet if you need to puke, Slugger." 

You opened your mouth to say something clever back but moaned instead. Shane made a sympathetic noise and his fingers brushed back your hair. The ghost of a kiss swept your temple and you thought about his lips against... every goddamn inch of you the night before. 

Holy hell, you'd slept with Shane again. You'd come into his room- drunk- stole his shirt, and seduced him. For a second, you were impressed with Drunk You's fucking balls, but embarrassment set in immediately instead. 

"Can't believe you're all hungover, girl. Thought you were a professional," Shane teased, moving around the room again.

You debated opening your eyes, but Christ that sounded even more painful. You flipped him off instead. "Yes, well, I am professionally hungover, asshole." 

He chuckled again. "Your clothes are beside you, so you know." 

You grunted, braced yourself, and cracked one eye open. He had the lights low- thank you, Dickhead- and was dressed already, checking over his shotgun with his Glock on the table beside him. 

"Isn't it fucking early for that?" you complained, reaching for your jeans and trying to cover the hefty dose of awkward you were feeling. 

He shot you an amused look, and- 

Yeah, ok, you thought as your hands clenched around your shirt for a minute. You'd seen that look in an entirely different context last night, and now your cheeks were red. Perfect. 

You slid to the edge of the bed and turned your back to him as you rose, slipping his shirt off your shoulders and reaching for your bra and tank top. You hated this. You'd changed in front of Shane six thousand times and never once felt like this, not even the morning after you'd hooked up the first time. But right now, your fucking scar burned and your shoulders were tight as you pulled your clothes on as rapidly as possible. 

Shane was silent until you turned around, glancing at him from the corner of your eye as you pulled your fingers through your tangled hair and tried to look busy. 

"Slugger, we need to talk about some things," he said seriously, leaning against the table. He crossed his arms and looked at you. 

He had a look in his eyes that made you wonder what all you'd said while you were drunk. You didn't think you'd said anything you didn't really want him to know, but this was one of the many reasons you took care of drunks instead of being one of them. 

You fiddled, folding his shirt restlessly. "Shane, please. My head is splitting. I need coffee and painkillers, not conversations."

"I know you're hungover, but I need to know what you meant by some stuff, Ace," he bit out. He shoved a hand through his own hair and reached for you, but you turned to evade him, going to his bag to drop his shirt back into it. 

"While I was drunk off my ass? I probably didn't mean anything," you said easily over your shoulder. 

"Don't," he whispered. "YN, come on. Look at me, please." 

You sighed dramatically and met his eyes, smile on your lips like the whole thing was normal. "Yes, Shane?" 

He stared at you, hard, for a minute. He started to speak, but you could see him change his mind as he shoved upright. "You mad at me now that it's morning?" he finally asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. 

Your smile was real now, and you stepped over to him and kissed his cheek. "Of course not. I came on to you, remember? Come on, I'm dying here. I swear I saw a coffeepot in that cafeteria last night." 

Shane lay on his stomach where you'd maneuvered him the night before, blanket where you'd tossed it over him. You honestly weren't sure he'd moved in the past five hours, except to wrap his arms around the pillow you'd jammed under his cheek and pull it more comfortably under his face. You shook your head and headed to the coffeepot, hitting the button and thanking your past self for remembering to set it up the night before. 

Shane had been a little too enthusiastic about the drink you were tweaking the recipe on the night before. It'd been slow and Ellie had this bright idea for you to do signature cocktail nights, and Jason had flat refused to invent new recipes. Shane had volunteered as your guinea pig and you'd ended up taking his keys an hour before closing. 

You filled a glass with ice water and dropped it and the bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table at his head, poured coffee when the pot had filled enough to steal a cup, and curled up in the chair with your sketchbook and your pastels. Pastel wasn't really your medium, but Shane had turned to face you and he looked peaceful. The light from the windows was soft, his body language relaxed with sleep, and it just felt like a pastel moment. 

You were absorbed, headphones on with Adele crooning in your ears, when you glanced up for a reference point on a shadow realized he was sitting up and squinting at you. You slid your headphones off and smirked at him. "Good morning, Prince Charming." 

"Fuck time's it?" he mumbled. 

You leaned forward and opened the bottle of pills, handing it over to him with the cap already off. He frowned at it, shook more into his hand than was probably healthy, and gulped water. 

You shrugged. "I don't know. It was early when I started, but I don't know how long I've been sitting here." 

"Long enough for your coffee to go cold. I drank it. It's disgusting," he informed you, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

You rolled your eyes and set your sketchbook aside, grabbing your mug and heading into the kitchen. "Not all of us think coffee has to be seventeen dollars a cup and have gold dust floating in it, Dickhead." 

"Not gold. Just actual coffee beans must be used in its preparation," he shot back. "Shit, what were you giving me last night, Slugger?" 

You handed him his own mug and he frowned at it, clearly weighing the pros and cons of drinking your cheap-ass swill (his words). He took it and chugged it. 

You sipped yours more maturely. "Don't know. I haven't named it yet." 

"Name it 'hell in the morning'," he muttered. "Fuck me. I've got a shift starting at noon. Rick's gonna be all on my ass." 

You laughed- until someone pounded on your door. You jumped, spilling coffee, and Shane was halfway to his feet and reaching toward his side for his gun. He didn't have it on him since it was on the top shelf of your bookcase, where he put it every time he came over. You'd done it last night, knowing him well enough to know he'd be worried if you didn't get it from his car before you left the Lullaby. 

"Ace?" Mal's voice came from the hallway, and you groaned mentally. 

Shane shot you a look as you put the cup down firmly and headed toward your door. 

"Hey, baby, good- what the hell?" Mal asked, stepping in to give you a kiss and jerking to a stop when he saw Shane standing there. "What are you doing here?" 

"Ace let me crash," Shane said shortly, not moving from your couch. If anything, he looked more settled in and comfortable, propping his feet on the coffee table. 

You shot him a 'can you not?' look behind Mal's back as you closed your door. "Shane got a little unsafe to drive last night. I took his keys." 

"Couldn't call him a cab?" Mal asked snidely, not looking at you. 

Shane rolled his eyes. 

"He lives two hours away, Mal. What are you doing here?" you asked, running a hand down his arm and trying to distract him from the staring contest he and Shane were in. 

Mal glanced at you and sneered. "Didn't expect me to show up, huh? Typical." 

"Mal," you said, note of warning in your voice. "Shane's my friend and he needed a place to crash." 

"Yeah, man. What are you so worried about? Ace doesn't cheat, you know that," Shane put in, the 'unlike you' clear in what he didn't say. 

Fucking hell, you thought as Mal's eyes flashed and his fist clenched and released. 

"You sober now?" Mal demanded. 

Shane shrugged and drained the last of his coffee. "Yeah." 

"Well, see you later then." 

Shane gave Mal a long, considering look, then met your eyes. You held his gaze, added a touch of plea and apology to yours, and he snorted. "Yeah, whatever." 

He yanked on his boots, went and pulled down his gun, tucking it into the holster on his ankle, and headed toward the door. He paused in front of you, and you ignored the way Mal's eyes burned steadily into your skull to smile at Shane. 

"You good?" Shane asked softly, and Mal snorted. 

"Why wouldn't-" 

"Am I talking to you?" Shane snapped over his shoulder. "Slugger, you good?"

You made sure your smile was genuine despite the churning in your gut. The longer Shane stayed, the worse things were going to be, damn it. "I'm good, Shane. Be safe today, ok?" 

"Yeah, I will. I'll text you later. Thanks," he said, and kissed your cheek before he ducked out the door with a last look Mal's way. 

The latch clicked, dead silence in your apartment letting you hear his footsteps and the door to the stairs closing. Mal sucked in a deep breath, and you braced yourself. 

"What. The fuck?" Mal said through his teeth. 

"Mal, he-" 

Ding, ding, you thought dully as Mal started yelling. There's the bell for round one. 

You argued back, defending yourself in annoyance until he was in your face. You backed off immediately, toning it down to try to de-escalate things, and- 

Your back hit the doorknob right in your spine and you cried out, stumbling to the side. Fuck, that was going to leave a bruise. That might actually need a trip to the doctor, and an explanation for your dumbassery. 

"Oh god. Oh Ace, I'm so sorry." Mal reached for you, already blubbering and stroking your hair, and you sighed. 

There's the bell for round two. 

"I just- I just wasn't expecting to find him here. You know I get so jealous, baby, that's all," he whispered later, arms around you in bed. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have texted you he was crashing here," you whispered back, completing round three as the absolute loser. 

When he fell asleep, you slid out of bed and headed to the shower, scooping up your phone on the way. 

\-- Hey, Slugger. I'm heading in to work. Everything ok with you? Didn't like the vibe in your place when I left.

You tried to look at your back in the mirror and scowled. Whatever, you'd heal. Wouldn't be any worse than the scar Will'd left you.

\-- Yeah, we're good! Mal was just surprised. Sorry he was such an asshole to you. Be safe today, Dickhead. 

"So," Shane said as you walked toward the cafeteria together. You hadn't run into anyone in the halls yet, and you were fine with it. 

You needed a few minutes to pull yourself together. Maybe you could stop blushing every time you glanced at Shane, or thought about what you'd been up to the night before, or took a fucking breath. 

Shane opened a door and set his hand on your back as you went through first, and all you could think about was his fingers slipping down your spine while he kissed you, your legs locked around him and your hands in his hair. 

Fucking hell, you thought, trying to banish that mental image before you ended up even more fucking flustered than you already were. 

"Should we talk about that?" he asked in a low voice. 

Dear Christ, no, you thought wildly. "Why?" you asked, drawing on your lying skills to keep your voice mildly interested instead of completely terrified. 

He shot you an annoyed look that you steadfastly ignored. "Well, Slugger, because we had sex." 

You shrugged, hoping for cool and collected instead of manic and panicked. "We've done it before. What's your point?" 

He shoved a hand through his hair and jerked open the cafeteria door. You ducked through ahead of him, before he could touch you again and turn you back into a quivering mess. Some of the others sat in a pool of light around the table, far quieter than the noisy lot of you had been the night before. Rick and Glenn in particular looked like hell, so at least you weren't the only one hung over. T Dog had a pan of what smelled like eggs, and your stomach churned in instant and utter rejection. 

But you saw coffee and your eyes lit up. 

"Why the hell are you so damn difficult about this?" Shane muttered into your ear from behind you. "We're going to talk, damn it." 

Greetings hailed you and you waved, pouring coffee for both you and Shane automatically. You handed it to him and he scowled at it after one sip. 

"This is shit," he declared. 

You met Rick's eyes when he laughed with you. "Not your gold-dust beans, I guess," you told Shane and Rick's smile grew. 

"He always was a picky bastard when it came to coffee." 

"Amen, brother," you waved your cup in Rick's direction with a smirk. 

"That ain't your brother, Ace," Daryl's voice came from the darkness, sounding as rough as you felt. "You still drunk or somethin', don't remember what I look like? Where the hell were ya last night?" 

You didn't look at Shane, who'd wandered away when it became clear you were neither leaving the coffee pot anytime soon nor answering his questions right then. You snorted as Daryl joined you and took the cup from your hand. 

"You could get your own, asshole," you said mildly, but poured another as he leaned beside you. "How's your head?" 

"Is it still there?" he muttered into the cup. "That's a fuckin' surprise." 

You chuckled at that and he flipped you off as Jenner came walking in. 

"Morning," Jenner said to you softly as he reached you, waving in response to the group's greetings. 

"Morning, doc," you greeted him. "Thanks for the coffee." 

He tipped you a smile and saluted with his cup as Dale called his name. 

"Not to hit you with questions first thing in the morning, but-" 

"But you're going to," Jenner said wearily. 

In a turn of events you most definitely hadn't seen coming, the CDC was trying to kill you. Dale had asked Jenner about the countdown clock and the doc had gotten shady as hell. The menfolk had gone down to investigate the generators, and when the air cut off, everyone had followed Jenner back to the main room and started blasting him with questions. 

Apparently, when they ran out of fuel, the whole building would incinerate itself to keep from letting any infectious diseases spread. 

"Wouldn't it be kinder, more compassionate, to just- hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?" Jenner asked. 

Daryl's hand clenched around yours as he scoffed, but Shane had caught your eye. 

He racked a shell into his shotgun and headed straight for the doctor, pure rage in his eyes. You held Daryl back when he started forward with Rick and the rest of them, because you know what? 

You fucking agreed with Shane right then. Jenner had lead you in here, let you believe it was a safe haven against the world, and now he was threatening to kill you all. There were kids in here. Your brother was here; Shane was here. 

Why the hell should the doctor get his pain-free death when he was forcing all of you into this? 

"Open that door, or I'm gonna blow your head off. Do you hear me?" Shane yelled, shotgun aimed square at Jenner's face. 

It was the same tone he'd used when he threatened Ed, and by God the cold promise of death coming from him should not have made you feel the way it did. You shivered slightly and swallowed hard, watching as Rick talked to Shane like Shane was doing something utterly wrong. 

You didn't get that. Jenner was holding you all hostage. You weren't one for unnecessary violence, but this situation? It called for it one hundred percent. 

Shane glanced at you and primal-screamed, unloading several rounds and a ball of pure animal rage into the nearest computers. You didn't have a problem with that either, but when Rick wrestled the shotgun from him and slammed the butt of it into Shane, taking him down, you'd dropped Daryl's hand and were heading Rick's way to get between them, damn it. 

Daryl wrapped an arm around you and hauled you back with a grunt. "Naw. Ya ain't gettin' in that, sis. Leave it be; Shane's fine." 

You glared, but Shane was already climbing to his feet while Rick started making a speech at Jenner with that damn look in his eyes, the one Shane called magic and you just called practiced. 

Daryl let you go and scooped up the ax he'd abandoned when Jenner started talking about HITs and nuclear-level blasts, swinging at the doors you knew he couldn't break down. Shane stared at you across the room, you stared back, and somehow, someway- 

Rick fucking did it again.


	23. Lie #23: "The Good News Is, My Hangover's Cured" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic abuse/violence  
mentions of past rape/non con / dub con

There were four minutes on the clock when the doors opened. Shane crossed the room in the blink of an eye while Daryl screamed for everyone to just come on, grabbing your arm and hauling you with him toward the doors. 

"Get your shit, get your shit and let's go, Ace, come on, hustle," he snapped at you. 

You wanted to be annoyed- did he think you were planning on taking the scenic route or something? But frankly, you were terrified and you didn't have the energy to argue with him right now when you needed to be concentrating on the running. At the doorway, Daryl grabbed your arm as Shane paused, because Rick was still talking to the doctor and- Jaqui and Andrea and Dale decided to stay. 

You stood frozen, everyone did, until Dale screamed at you all to run. Then Shane, his shoulders tight and that look of complete failure and devastation in his eyes, spun you around and shoved you toward the hall. 

"Run, Slugger," he snapped, voice hard.

You ran. 

Somehow, you made it to the ground floor. Jenner had said the doors couldn't be opened, and you wondered if everyone had done all this just to die here anyway, steps from freedom. 

Daryl and Shane worked together grimly and frantically, both of them trying axes against the Plexiglas before Shane snatched up his shotgun and fired off a round. The glass didn't dent, much less shatter. 

"Rick? I have something that might help," Carol said urgently, and you turned slowly from staring unseeing at the walkers outside the windows. 

She was holding a grenade, and you blinked. 

"Holy shit," you muttered. Daryl grabbed your arm and yanked you to the ground and Shane tossed himself in front of you and Carol and Sophia beside you. 

Rick tossed the thing and yeah. Yeah, grenade beat Plexiglas, you thought, ears ringing as Shane pulled you to your feet and shoved you through the massive hole in the wall. 

"Ace!" You caught the Glock Shane tossed you and fired twice, clearing the path with the others as everyone raced for the cars. 

Daryl took a walker down with the ax still in his hands and covered Carol and Sophia as they jumped into Carol's car. Shane shoved you into the floorboard of his Jeep, following you as Rick blasted on the horn of the RV. Shane was muttering 'fuck fuck holy fuck' under his breath, and you reached for him without thinking as you braced for the end-of-the-world level explosion about to come. 

He pulled you to him and you hid your face in his chest, holding onto his shirt for dear life- 

The world rained fire and noise and chunks of building around you and Shane's mumbled curse became a shouted one. 

You peeled away rapidly, before the debris had even stopped falling. Shane glared out at the road, jaw and shoulders tight, and your hands shook slightly with adrenaline and the sheer terror at what had almost happened. You'd gone from nearly dead to maybe not dead to definitely not dead too damn many times and your head was absolutely spinning. 

"The good news is, my hangover's cured," you said after a while. 

Shane snorted, but it didn't sound amused. "Then maybe we can finally have a fucking chat," he snarled. 

You sighed and leaned back against the seat, suddenly wishing you hadn't opened your mouth. "About what, Shane?" 

"About- about what? You kidding me?" Shane slammed the heel of his hand into the steering wheel and you jumped in your seat. "Jesus fucking Christ." 

"What?" you snapped, getting annoyed. "You startled me, that's all! Were you not just involved in the same thing I was? I'm a little twitchy!" 

His glare softened and he scrubbed at his face. "That's fair," he said. "But Ace, come on, girl. We got shit to discuss." 

"Like what?" you asked again, spinning your mom's ring on your finger. "So we fucked. It's no big deal, right? We've done it before." 

"Not like that," he muttered, and you squinted at him. He wasn't looking at you, staring out the windshield with that white knuckle grip on the wheel again. 

"What the hell does that mean?" you asked. "We fucked when we first met. We fucked just now. It doesn't have to mean anything, right? Just... friends with benefits," you said with a shrug. 

Yeah, a voice in your head muttered. Benefits like how he lit your body up like a goddamn Christmas tree, benefits like the way you turned into fucking putty in his hands, benefits like how much you wanted him to do it again and again and again, and whisper things like he'd said last night as he did. 

Mal talked dirty and it did nothing for you. Mal told you what he wanted from you, what he was going to do to you, what he would wring from your body for himself. 

Shane had whispered, too; against your skin, in your ear, against your lips. But Shane- 

Shane's hands had been in your hair, his lips on your ear, saying you fascinated him. He'd murmured against the inside of your wrist that you were beautiful; to your lips that he was lost in the sound of your voice. He trailed burning kisses down the curve of your hip, whispering that he wanted you- not what he was going to take from you; not what he was going to do to you. "Jesus Christ, Slugger, do you know- do you know what you do to me?" he'd growled in that raw, dangerous voice that shouldn't have made you breathless, holding you to him and mumbling your name as he tipped over that crazy peak into insanity with you. 

He'd brushed his lips to your forehead, your closed eyes, your cheeks, and whispered 'Ace, my Ace' as he eased you both down and pulled you against his chest, and you'd never felt so damn secure and seen as in that moment.

That was just Shane, you thought, not looking at him. Julie had giggled, giving him a mock-sad look when he came in after the two of them had hooked up and decided they were done.

"It's a real shame," she'd said with a sigh. "He's so damn sweet- and thorough, if you know what I mean," she'd added with a suggestive poke on your arm. You'd rolled your eyes and joked back, because yeah- you'd known what she meant. 

Shane didn't take sex seriously, you knew. He played it cool and casual; he wasn't looking for anything heavy. He just wanted a good time, and wanted to make sure who he was with had a good time too. He'd shrug when he broke up with his latest bimbo and wave his drink in the air. "It's just sex, Slugger. No big deal." 

He sighed beside you now, adjusting his hat on his head. You watched from the corner of your eye and you could have sworn he looked relieved. "Yeah, ok. Sure. Friends with benefits." 

"Yeah," you said, turning to him with a jerk of one shoulder and what you hoped was a careless wave. "We're friends. Who, when the mood and the timing is right, on occasion fuck." 

"Wish you wouldn't say that," he mumbled. 

"Say what?" you asked. 

"Fuck. It just sounds so- fuckin' cold." 

You blinked at him, a slow smile forming on your lips. "What would you rather I say then?" 

The faintest blush rose, spreading up from his neck as he glared at you. "I don't know." 

You laughed and kissed his cheek, and his lips twitched slightly when you did. "Fine. We're friends, who on occasion have sex. That better?" 

"Yeah, I guess. Listen, Slugger, about sex..." he trailed off and his hands tightened on the wheel again. "I gotta ask you something, and I want you to actually tell me the truth." 

Tension crept in at the base of your neck. "Ok." 

"Mal. Did he- Slugger, I get the feeling you've had a lot of sex you didn't really want to be having. I just want to make sure you know, that's not- I'm not- You tell me no," he said harshly, shooting a hot, angry look your way. "You tell me no, and it's done." 

"Shane," you whispered, once again absurdly touched. "I know that." 

"Do you? For real? 'Cause, honey, you got a real problem lying about things, you know that? You don't even- shit. You don't talk about what's happened to you. I don't know where that damn scar came from, or how often you took a punch because of me. You don't open up, and I just-" he broke off and ripped the hat off his head, tossing it down into the backseat. 

"Will gave me the scar," you said softly, staring at your hands. 

"Who the fuck is Will?" 

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the seat. "Will's my dad. Our dad. Well, he was." 

Shane was silent, the wind rushed over you, and you thought about what you were willing to say here. It wasn't that you didn't trust Shane. It was that opening that can of worms meant admitting things to yourself you didn't like admitting, going places you didn't like going. But it was Shane, and he was so clearly unhappy, so you tried.

"I was thirteen. He was beating Daryl. I hit him with a frying pan. He hit back harder, and took his belt to me. And no," you added with a grim twist of your lips as you opened your eyes and looked at him. "It wasn't the first time."

Shane held himself utterly still, but there was tension in every line of his body, and you sighed. 

"Shane, don't- Look, I don't talk about shit because it's fine. It's over, or I'm over it, or I can handle it. Talking about it just makes it worse," you said, waving a hand in his direction. "It puts that look in your eyes." 

"My eyes?" he snarled. "You see your face right now, Slugger? You're not ok." 

"Don't tell me what I am," you snapped, fear and old pain combining into fresh anger. "This is why I don't talk about it. You think you need to know everything? You don't. You need to know two things, and here they are. One: I know what the fuck I'm doing. And two: I can take care of myself." 

Shane laughed, shoving his hand through his hair, and the laugh was mocking. "The hell you can. You won't even keep the goddamn gun." 

"Because I don't need it," you snapped. 

"Are you kidding me with that-" he started, looking over at you in disbelief. 

Rick hit the RV's horn once and cruised the caravan to a stop, and you fled from Shane's Jeep before he could say anything else to you. 

Rick, Shane, Daryl, and Glenn cleared a building while you held Shane's gun and covered the others with T Dog and Dale. You were annoyed, embarrassed, and confused as all hell, trying to avoid Shane and Daryl so you wouldn't have any more awkward conversations for the day. 

You hated talking about this shit. You'd learned from Will that it was just the way the world worked, and talking about it only made things worse. It was so much easier to deal with it yourself than to manage someone else's surprise and worry and guilt and whatever other exhausting range of emotions they'd explode all over you about it.

Like right now. You'd talked about something, and now you and Shane were both stalking around and barely fucking speaking. Perfect. 

You rose sometime after dark, pacing the bottom floor of the building restlessly as you looked for a tiny amount of privacy. In the morning, you'd be heading for Fort Benning, everyone packing into as few vehicles as possible in order to save on fuel. As Rick had put it, Atlanta was done. 

Yeah, you were pretty fucking done with Atlanta, too, you thought irritably. 

"Ace." 

You gave yourself two seconds to curse whatever god had convinced you downing most of a bottle of Jack the night before had been a good idea before you turned from the window. Shane leaned in the doorway, but he wandered toward you when you looked at him. 

"Look, sweetheart, it's not that I just like poking at old wounds," he said, picking up like you'd never stopped talking. "I just- I don't want to hurt you. You're my best friend." 

Well, fucking hell. "That's a low fucking blow," you muttered, scrubbing at suddenly damp eyes. 

He snorted and touched your arm, and you leaned into him. "Sorry." 

"No, it's fine," you said with a roll of your eyes. "You're my best friend, too. Shane, I don't talk about it because it doesn't matter. I trust you. Isn't that enough?" 

He sighed and you pushed away. "Normally, it would be. For a friendship, sure. But there's sex involved." 

"It's just sex," you insisted. 

"I know," he said, waving your protest away. "It's just sex, sure. But it's you and it's me and it's sex and I need to have some things straight in my mind if we're going to do it again." 

You fiddled with your mom's ring again and rolled your eyes. "Who says I want to at this point?" you muttered. 

He paused. "Well, that's fair, I guess." 

"Don't sound so goddamn amused, Dickhead," you shot at him, but you were smiling. "Ok, fine. Right at this moment not so much, but it's probably going to happen again. There, is your ego happy now?" 

"Ain't about my ego." 

"Sure it isn't." 

"Slugger." 

You sighed and turned back to the window. "What do you want to know, Shane? That it was easier to just let him do what he wanted to than to argue? That some days I'd weigh the possibility of injuries I'd have to explain against just how badly I wanted to go back to sleep? That I once let him fuck me after he'd-" You stopped speaking abruptly, not willing to let that one out yet. Maybe not ever. 

"After what?" Shane asked, and his voice was all kinds of wrong. 

"No," you said simply. "I'm not, Shane. It wasn't good. It was toxic and it was wrong, but it wasn't entirely his fault. I let him do what he wanted, so don't act like I'm some fragile victim here." 

"Sweetheart-" 

"Shane," you said, putting every ounce of warning you could into his name. 

He got the message, because when you turned from the window and headed toward the door, suddenly too tired to keep talking, he didn't try to stop you. You paused beside him and kissed him lightly, letting your hand linger on his arm. 

"I'm not afraid of you, Shane. I know how to say no, and I will. Don't make it weird, ok? Friends first. Benefits second or not at all. I need this friendship too badly to let us fuck it up over something as meaningless as sex- ours or how mine went before." 

Shane didn't speak, but he nodded once, touched your fingers with his, and moved to take your place at the window.


	24. Lie #24: "Got Crappy Taste In Music, Though" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentioned/referenced past domestic violence/abuse  
mentioned/referenced past rape/non con /dub con  
mentioned/referenced past child abuse

Shane stewed on what she said all damn night and didn't sleep more than five minutes. Not that she'd told him much of anything specific, but fuck knew Shane had enough to work with to work himself up a good goddamn rage. 

In the morning she'd avoided him like he was the fucking plague, like she'd done until he'd cornered her the night before, and Shane tried not to get pissed off about that. Then for a heart-stopping moment he'd thought she was about to settle into the saddle of Merle Dixon's fucking bike, and Shane was going to lose his goddamn mind if she could ride a motorcycle and he didn't know that about her either. 

She swung onto the back instead, wrapped her arms around Daryl and cracked a joke that made him laugh, and Dixon pulled the thing out past the window of the crowded RV Shane found himself enclosed in. He abandoned his Jeep reluctantly, but they needed the fuel, so here he was trapped in a tin can with Glenn, Dale, T Dog, and Andrea, and he was hating every fucking minute of it.

"It's just sex," she'd said with a shrug. 

Just sex. Sure. Shane got that. He did. He did 'just sex' all the time. Hell, that was Shane's motto. 

But did she have to look so damn casual about it? 

Look, Shane wasn't one to believe sex was more important than it was, and he wasn't about to pretend he hadn't had some excellent sex in his day. He wasn't looking to 'go steady', as she'd put it. He didn't think about Ace that way, anyway. 

Even with all that, though, Shane had thought maybe, just maybe- that night had been something special. 

But if things for her had been as bad as the little glimpse she'd given him, unspecific as she fucking was about everything, then he guessed it wasn't so much special because of him as it was because someone was actually fucking paying attention to her. Put anyone else who actually gave a shit about her in his shoes, and it'd have been their name on her lips like a prayer, he thought bitterly. 

And didn't that just burn Shane's ass for some reason? 

He snapped the slide off his gun a little more roughly than he needed to as he worked himself into a solid rage. Malcolm fucking Hall, Shane thought, teeth grinding together as he laid the gun out in pieces to clean it. 

If Shane could have, he'd have killed the man with his bare hands and gotten creative with his corpse when he was done. 

She wouldn't say it, but Shane got the picture pretty fucking clearly. Bastard raped Ace regularly as well as hitting her. And Shane hadn't seen it, damn it. 

Then she tried to take the goddamn blame, because his fucking Ace couldn't stand letting anyone see a weakness- not even him, apparently. He'd thought the other night that he was the exception; that he was the one she could break down and open up to, but no. 

She didn't have any exceptions. Just walls, and secrets, and whole world of pain he wanted to take off her shoulders for her if only she'd let him in. 

Shane wondered how many years it had taken to grind into her that she wasn't allowed to have problems. He wondered how many years it had taken for her to decide no one would help her, so she wouldn't even acknowledge she needed the help. 

He hadn't gotten it when she'd slammed the door in his face after he'd tried to help her. He couldn't understand why on earth she'd want to protect Malcolm fucking Hall; why she'd excuse his behavior and take the blame on herself. He'd slapped her, bloodied her, and left her on the ground, and she was claiming it was her fault? Bullshit. 

Shane still didn't get it, but if she'd been getting knocked around since she was a kid... 

Well, honestly, that didn't make it any clearer, but it did give Shane another name for his kill list. 

Her own fucking father. Taking his belt to her hard enough to leave that scar on her back. Knowing even that much made her bucking up to Ed stand out even sharper in his mind, another act of courage and heart he didn't even comprehend from the woman he thought he'd known like the back of his hand. 

And then Shane had gone and beaten the shit out of someone right in front of her. He'd threatened the doctor, shot up the computers. Shane was violence walking around in human form, when she'd had enough violence swirling around her for ten lifetimes. 

No wonder she drew him standing over Ed looking like a monster. No wonder she'd flinched when he'd yelled at her, no wonder she'd jumped when he hit the steering wheel. 

It blew his mind that she had anything to do with him at all, ever. Much less called him her best friend and sought him out- or had until this morning.

Goddamn it. 

"That looks complicated," Andrea said from across the table. 

Shane snorted, drawn out of his dark mental spiral with reluctance. Shane had always enjoyed a good brooding session, and he certainly had plenty to work with, didn't he? 

Oh well, Andrea had a gun of her own and could probably use a lesson. The whole group could, except Rick and the Dixons, apparently. 

"The trick is gettin' all these pieces back together the same way," he answered her. "I could clean yours. Show you how." 

She didn't respond, a beaten and exhausted look in her eyes, and Shane fished her piece out of the bag of guns. He looked it over, gave it nod. 

"It's a sweet piece," he told her. 

She actually smiled slightly. "It was a gift from my father. He gave it to me just before Amy and I took off on our road trip. Said two girls, traveling alone, should be able to defend themselves." 

"Smart man, your father," Shane said. He started showing her how to break it down, but his mind wasn't entirely on the task. 

Funny, the only thing his daddy'd ever given him was a hero complex and a flashed peace sign as he rode away, and all Ace's dad had ever given her was a lifetime of trauma and a scar to remind her of it all. Fuck fathers, Shane thought. Who decided who got the good ones? 

He didn't begrudge Andrea and Amy their good dad. He just wished there were more of them to go around, that was all. 

"Oh, shit," Dale muttered, pulling the RV to a stop at the pile up. 

Shane's stomach sank to his toes, thinking about the road to Atlanta and the gnarly parking lot that had become. Another one out here? Could be full of the dead. But they couldn't afford the gas to go around, and Shane looked over Dale's shoulder as Daryl brought the bike back to the driver's window. 

Ace sat on the bike, back ramrod straight and hands loose on her legs in a way that told him she'd done this more than once before. She flashed Shane a smile, said something to Daryl that had him nodding, and she gestured over her shoulder. 

"There's a path, we think. Come on, we'll lead the way," she called to Dale. 

She had Daryl's crossbow slung over her back, Shane saw, and he tried to ignore that the thought of her using that thing while driving the bike, bandanna over her face like she had it now, like some badass inner-city modern Robin Hood was... More interesting than Shane should have found it. Especially in the current moment, with all these people around him. 

Of course, the RV broke down moments later, so he didn't have long to think about it. 

They split up to search the cars along the highway, and Shane glanced at Ace to see if she wanted to come with him. She was glued to Daryl's side, though, following her brother and T Dog as they started siphoning gas. 

Shane sighed and went with Glenn, wondering how long things were going to be weird and awkward between them, and when they were going to get back to the friends part. Because right now, he could leave the benefits for good if she'd just come talk to him for five minutes. 

Then she tossed her head so her hair flew out of her face and grinned up at Daryl, and Shane had a flash of her- his shirt unbuttoned but still on her shoulders, slipping into his lap and tossing her head just like that; shooting him an even more sly version of that grin. 

Goddamn it, never mind. He wanted the benefits too. 

He wandered slightly away from Glenn as the kid worked, over to a delivery van to check the name on the side. He pulled it up and shook his head, smiling in disbelief. 

"Hey, Glenn. We were low on water?" he called, and popped the top of one of the jugs to let it run over his head and cool him down. 

Maybe it'd cool his fucking brain down too. 

He didn't know what it was that had him looking up at the exact moment he did, but he saw Dale hitting the deck on top of the RV and immediately looked for Rick. Rick waved and motioned getting under the cars, and Shane nodded his understanding. He snatched at Glenn, shoving the kid under a truck and crawling under as well, shotgun at the ready as he waited for the shuffling feet and moans to get closer. 

Goddamn it, where was Ace? Where were Carl and Lori? Shane believed Rick would have them down- they'd be his partner's first priority, after all- but Ace was with Dixon, and she still didn't have a gun. 

Fucking hell, he was making her take one, whether she liked violence or not. As soon as they made it out of this mess, he promised himself. 

Sophia screamed as Shane and Glenn were crawling out from under the truck. Shane ran toward the noise. When they reached the others, Carol was sobbing in Lori's arms, Carl came running to Shane, and Daryl, Ace, and T Dog where nowhere to be seen. 

Rick had chased the walkers on the little girl's trail, and Shane cursed under his breath as he tried to figure out what the hell to do. He heard movement and whirled, his eyes going wide as Ace and Daryl came up, Ace wrapping her bandanna around a pale, bloody T Dog's arm. 

"Who screamed?" she asked shortly, eyes grim and worried. Then she saw Carol, looked toward the woods, and swallowed hard. "Shit." 

"Rick's after her," Lori said in a steady voice. "It's going to be fine, Carol. We've just got to keep quiet and wait for him to come back."

Shane looked her over and held out his Glock wordlessly. She lifted one eyebrow, crossed her arms, and refused with a shake of her head. Shane lost. 

When Rick came back without Sophia, Shane shoved his hands through his hair and started cussing again. He, Glenn, and Daryl went back with Rick to where he'd left her, and Shane had some questions for his friend. 

Like who the fuck left a little girl alone in the woods while she was running from walkers. And why he thought she knew how to follow his directions. And what the hell they were going to do next. 

Daryl picked up the trail and they all started after him, until he crouched, face close to the ground, and broke his silence in the way Shane had least expected and absolutely least wanted. 

"So Shane. What the hell you doin' with my sister the other night?" he asked, and Shane almost ran smack into a tree. 

"Wh- what?" Rick asked, looking from Daryl- who didn't bother to look up from the ground, moving a little forward and to the left instead- to Shane. 

Shane turned away from Rick's upraised, vaguely amused and vaguely disapproving eyebrows and scanned the trees determinedly. "Nothing." 

"Ya were up to somethin'. Done got her all twisted up, too, so I wanna know if I need to be havin' a chat with you, man," Daryl muttered. "Come on, this way." 

He rose and started walking, and Shane shoved a hand through his hair and followed him. "What do you mean twisted up?" 

"She ain't actin' right's all. Your fault, near as I can figure. You mess her up, I'll mess up your face. Just so we're clear." 

Shane snorted and glanced at Daryl. "I mess her up, I'll let you." 

Daryl gave him a long, considering look and a slow blink. "Huh." 

"No 'huh'. We're just friends," Shane said, but he felt like he was fighting a losing battle there. 

"I mean, I know ya got real friendly, since she spent the night in your room and all," Daryl shot back. 

Shane had a feeling he was being teased, but he wasn't sure. "Don't get all riled up. We were just blowing off steam." 

"You were blowing off steam... with Ace?" Rick's tone from behind Shane was incredulous, and Shane's jaw clenched like his hand around the barrel of his shotgun. 

"Man, I may like ya after all," Daryl muttered to Rick with a snort. Shane ignored that.

"Yes," he growled. "With Ace. Now can we please get back to finding this little girl, or do you want to talk about our sex lives some more?" 

Rick held up his hands for peace and Daryl scoffed, moving forward. Shane started wishing the ground would swallow him up like it seemed to have swallowed up Sophia, especially when Daryl frowned and pointed. 

"She veered off right here, but there's no other tracks or nothin'. It don't make sense. Kinda like whatever Shane's doin' foolin' around with my baby sister." 

"She's five minutes younger than you, Dixon. I think she can make her own damn decisions," Shane snapped, and Daryl's eyes flashed in amusement. 

Shane sighed again and resolved to just shut up completely from there on out. 

"So, tell me about her," Rick said from behind the wheel. 

Shane glanced over, putting his cup back in the cup holder. Rick had won the coin toss, so it was he got to drive, and Shane hated it. Absolutely loathed it. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, grabbing a couple of Rick's fries. 

Rick snatched one of Shane's onion rings as payment and rolled his eyes. "You went out last night. You came in disheveled, in yesterday's clothes, and with that look. Tell me about her." 

Shane snorted and glanced out the window, smiling tugging his lips. "She's a bartender." 

Rick whistled. "Thought you swore them off after- what was her name? Dianna?"

"Dianna Henderson. I did. Ace is-"

"Ace?" Rick interrupted. 

"Nickname. Introduced herself that way- 'hey, I'm YN, just call me Ace everyone does'," Shane said, waving his burger in the air. "Anyway, she's nothing like Dianna. She's cool. Does art and shit too, and she's good. Really fucking good, you should see some of the shit in her place, man. Got crappy taste in music, though." 

"Hmmm," Rick said. "You like her. So, you seeing her again tonight?" 

Shane waved that off. "Yeah, I liked her. Not seeing her again, period." 

"Why the hell not? You've been smilin' all damn day over her." 

Shane rolled his eyes. "We're gonna be friends. Decided we would be better off that way." 

Though he had no fucking clue why that was, he thought now. She'd been- shit. She'd been something else, he thought, thinking a little too hard about her hair in his hands, water running down her stomach and dripping off the stone in her navel, her hand smearing the chalk on her wall when he- 

"Yeah, I give it a week," Rick said dryly. 

"Huh?" Shane blinked and tried to focus, trying to get blue hair and her breathless laugh out of his head. "Week until what?" 

"Until you see her again." 

Shane rolled his eyes, but he was already wondering if she'd be working Friday night.


	25. Lie #25: "You Boys Can Be Macho And In Charge" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
past child abuse  
child endangerment

Shane and Glenn came back with no Daryl, Rick, or Sophia, and your pulse kicked up a little as Shane vaulted the guardrail. You slid from the hood of the car you'd perched on, heading toward the two of them along with everyone else. 

"They're fine," Shane said immediately. He looked at Carol and gave her a soft smile. "She took a wrong turn out there and Rick's got Daryl tracking her. Sent me and Glenn to make sure we're ready up here. They'll be back soon." 

Carol nodded, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, and went back to staring into the woods. 

Shane glanced over everyone else. "Alright, people, we need to get enough of these cars moved so the RV can turn around. Gotta get every drop of gas we can from the place, and scavenge anything we might need from the cars. Got a lot to do still, folks, so let's get busy. Carl- you stay in your mama's sight, ok? Dale, why don't you climb on back up there and keep a lookout." 

Carl nodded and moved off with Lori, the remainder of the group dispersing to do as Shane had asked. Shane and Glenn headed your way as well, Shane stopping in front of you when you didn't move. Glenn glanced at you and away again, and you thought he might have been blushing. Then again, it was fucking hot in Georgia.

"Hey," you said to Shane, reaching out and touching the back of his hand with your fingertips. "You ok?" 

He sighed and took your hand, and you felt bad for the way you'd been low-key avoiding him. You'd said friends first, but you hadn't been acting like it this morning. It was just- 

Jesus, it was just everything. Talking about things, thinking about things, thinking about Shane and sex and- 

You broke that train of thought off again before it derailed your entire brain.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Shane answered you, squinting over your shoulder at the RV and the group. 

You snorted. "Dickhead, you've got worry and guilt stamped all over your face. This is not your fault. Is Daryl tracking her?" 

Shane sighed and shifted, setting the butt of his shotgun on the ground. He kept his loose grip on your hand and you tried not to think about how goddamn good it felt, just having your fingers cupped in his. 

"Yeah, he's on it. He's good at that shit. Can you do that too?" Shane asked suddenly, giving you an appraising look. "That one of your secret skills I keep findin' out about?" 

You snorted out a laugh. "If I could, don't you think I'd be out there doing it? No. That's Daryl and Merle's gig." 

Shane cracked a smile, but barely, and headed toward the group with another sigh. "Rick wants me to keep them busy. What about the crossbow?" 

"Huh?" you asked, trying to follow that subject jump and failing miserably because Shane was still holding your hand and you didn't think he was even aware of it. And like, this wasn't the first time, but for some reason you couldn't stop thinking about how it felt, damn it. 

"The crossbow. Can you shoot it? Can you drive that bike, too? Shit, girl. Feel like I don't know anything about you anymore," Shane muttered, and his voice sounded sad. 

You tore your attention away from the calluses on his hand and ordered yourself to focus. "I- what? No, I can't shoot the crossbow. I mean, I could if it was a dire emergency and already loaded, but the draw's too heavy for me and I'm a shit shot with it. Intellectually, I suppose I could drive the bike, but I've never done it before. Merle threatened a fate worse than death if either of us fucked it up, so I just steered clear for safety. Shane, where's this coming from? You know me better than anyone." 

"No, I don't," Shane answered. "Thought I did, but then you grabbed my gun and started dropping walkers with head shots. Turns out, I don't know all that much, do I? Alright, I'm going to start trying to get these cars moved. Help T with the fuel, would you? Keep an eye on him with that arm." 

You sighed as Shane let go of your hand and strode off, missing his touch as soon as he let go. 

Carol questioned why everyone wasn't out looking, and Shane talked her down. Andrea and Glenn were freaked out about the walkers coming through, and you listened with half an ear as Shane talked them down about that, too. 

To be fair, it'd been pretty nerve wracking. Daryl had grabbed your arm when you'd been busting open the gas tank on one of the cars, finger to his lips and eyes intense. You'd taken one look and nodded, and he'd passed you his buck knife handle first. You stayed at his side as he ducked down behind one of the cars, and then you'd seen T Dog stand up with wide eyes and fresh blood all over his shirt. 

You grabbed Daryl's arm, pointed, and he sighed. You'd taken down the walker with Daryl's knife, silent as you could, and Daryl ripped a body out of the car and tossed it over T Dog. You looked at him, grimaced, and pulled the walker you'd stabbed down on top of yourself as Daryl grabbed a corpse of his own. 

The herd- you liked that term, thanks Andrea- had wandered by and you'd shoved the walker off despite Daryl's warning shake of his head, more concerned with the sheer amount of blood coming from T Dog's arm than returning dead guys. If they came back, Daryl could cover your ass. T might bleed out if you didn't do something about him right then. 

Andrea was looking at Shane like she wanted to have him for breakfast, you thought abruptly. You shook your head as the group split up again, catching a glimpse of Carl wandering off in the opposite direction from Lori. You trailed the kid, keeping an eye on him just in case- searching for one missing kid right now was enough. 

You'd seen that look Andrea was giving Shane enough times in the Whiskey Lullaby to know it when you saw it. There was at least one, nearly every night Shane came in, and you wondered idly why you'd never seen him do more than slip a number into his back pocket when it was left for him. Besides Julie, he'd never picked anyone up in the bar. Shane stayed till last call nearly every time he came, but he always left alone or with you. 

Carl climbed up on the step of a truck, peering in the window. You stayed back a little, not wanting to stifle the kid's exploration. He got told to stay close all the time, and never really got to be a kid, after all. You had an eye on him; let him have a little fun. Maybe he'd find something good and get a moment of glory. 

He moved to the driver's side, not noticing when you followed along with him. There was a corpse in the seat, but you were pretty damn sure it was dead-dead. Carl opened the door and it didn't move, so you relaxed a little and leaned one hip against the nearest car to see what he did next. 

The little shit had some guts, you thought with a grin as he climbed right up and leaned over the dead man to get at something on its other side. No goddamn sense, but he had guts.

When he shrieked and fell backward, you were at his side in two strides. 

"You ok, kid?" you asked, reaching down a hand to pull him to his feet. 

He blinked up at you and grinned. "Look what I found!" 

You laughed and looked at the supple leather case, ax sticking out of one end. It looked like a bigger version of your own brush rolls, and you glanced back at the deceased in the truck and saluted him. 

"Thank you, dead man. Good find, but next time, ask for help, ok? If he hadn't been truly dead, you'd have been in a pickle." 

Carl shuffled his feet and looked down, deflated. You ruffled his hair and handed him back his find. He took it, a question in his eyes, and you smirked at him. 

"Go show it to Shane, kid. It's your find," you told him easily, and his eyes lit up. 

He took off, calling 'Uncle Shane! Uncle Shane!' and you strolled behind him. Shane's head shot up and he looked around, panicking- Lori came around a car with a wild look in her eyes, too- and you waved them both off. They relaxed immediately, and you smiled as Carl showed Shane his find excitedly. 

Shane unrolled it on the hood of a nearby car, blinked down at it, and flashed Carl a grin and a held up a hand for a high-five. 

"Thank you," Lori said quietly at your elbow. 

You glanced over at her and shrugged. "I saw him wandering off, figured I'd follow. He's a good kid, and Shane loves the shit out of him." 

"I know," Lori said, her eyes lingering on the two of them. 

The sun started to set while you were sorting and loading supplies. Shane had gotten a Hyundai working again, and you were loading gear up while shooting worried glances over your shoulder into the trees. 

Andrea stalked over to Dale asking where her gun was, and Dale got shifty about it. You didn't really care outside of wanting to know where the bag of guns was for safety purposes, but Shane headed over to make sure everything was kosher. He declared that 'the less guns floating around camp, the better' and you had some burning questions considering his ongoing attempts to get you to take one for yourself. 

"God. They're back," Glenn said. 

You shot to your feet, heading toward the guard rail to see Daryl and Rick alone and looking sad. Daryl came over to you immediately and you leaned in for a hug. 

"You ok?" he asked in a low voice as Rick started telling Carol they didn't find her, but they'd look more in the morning. 

You nodded, eyeing him. "I'm good. You?" 

He grimaced, but nodded, then headed over to help calm Carol down. Eventually, everyone piled into the cars for an uncomfortable night of attempting to sleep. You gave up after a couple hours and climbed onto the RV to watch until dawn flared light in the sky. 

"Everybody takes a weapon," Rick said the next morning, unrolling the case full of knives and other pointy things Carl had found. 

"You're takin' a gun," Daryl muttered in your ear. "As well as a knife." 

"No, I'm not," you said firmly. 

"She refusing a gun again?" Shane's voice was crabby and tired, and you wondered how much sleep he'd gotten, stretched out in the backseat of the Hyundai. 

"Yes, she is," you shot back. 

"We all should have guns," Andrea said, tone pissed, as you realized everyone was listening to you. 

"We can't have people popping off rounds every time the trees rustle. Noise draws 'em. Rick, Daryl, and I are carrying because we have training. So does Ace, so-" Shane glared at you and extended his Glock butt first. "Take it." 

Andrea scoffed. "It's not the trees I'm worried about," she said. 

"Say somebody fires at the wrong moment. A herd happens to be passin' by. See, then it's game over for all of us," Shane retorted. 

"Exactly," you interjected, stepping away from him without touching the gun he still held out. "So, I'll take a knife. You boys can be macho and in charge. Daryl uses the crossbow anyway, so his is just a backup. The officers have the guns- you know, like we're civilized people. Oh, sweet, look at this thing, Dar!"

You turned to him, holding up a throwing ax with wide eyes. 

"Shit, put that damn thing down and get a decent knife," he snapped at you, rolling his eyes. "Ya ain't ever thrown an ax before, ya ain't startin' now." 

You did as he said with a show of reluctance, but you'd accomplished your goal of redirecting the conversation. You pulled a decent- sized, wickedly sharp machete out of the roll and hooked the sheath to your belt as Daryl gave instructions on the group's path. You'd already argued with them both him and Shane that you were, in fact, going to be out there today, and Shane's eyes lingered on you as you checked that the knife was an easy draw. 

You made a face at him and he rolled his eyes, drifting over to your side as the others chose their weapons and assembled their packs. 

"Still wish you'd take the damn gun," he muttered to you. 

You sighed, personally wishing he'd close the small gap between you so your shoulders brushed or that he'd reach for your hand again. He had both hands wrapped around his shotgun instead, and shifted to lean back against the car, stubbornly just out of reach. 

"Why? I've got a big-ass knife now," you replied. "I'm good." 

"I'd feel a lot better about you being able to protect yourself if you'd just take my fucking Glock. Nobody else needs to know, if that's what you're worried about. The bug'll crawl out of Andrea's ass eventually, and you can keep it hidden until then." 

You shook your head, exasperated and tired of explaining that you didn't like guns, damn it. "It's not about Andrea. I can protect myself well enough without a gun, and besides- you'll be there. What more protection do I need?" 

It came out shamelessly flirty and you cursed yourself for a goddamn fool and bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. You hoped to hell your face wasn't flaming red like you thought it was, but Shane just scoffed and shoved a hand through his hair. 

"Won't always be right there, Slugger. Besides, ain't like I've done a great job protecting you so far," he muttered, guilt filling his voice. 

You turned toward him with a frown, but he shoved off the car and nodded in the direction of the trees. 

"Looks like we're ready to roll." 

You shifted in the sun and a trickle of sweat ran down your back. Daryl and Merle were listening with rapt attention to your dad, in one of his rare good moods as he explained how to work the various guns he had laid out on the weathered table he used to clean kills. The cabin was where Will was always in his best moods, and Daryl and Merle loved it as well. 

You thought the trees were oppressive, the heat was melting, and shooting things for fun was- well, the opposite of fun. 

You knew you should have been paying attention too, because Will would go from in cheerful good humor to mean as a snake if you showed the slightest lack of interest. Plus, you'd have to shoot each of those damn guns and probably the crossbow too. 

"Ace, go get yer daddy a cold beer, would ya? That's my girl," Will called, and you shoved to your feet and headed into the cabin dutifully. 

Will took the beer and chugged it, crushed the can and handed it back to you. You sighed and made the trip again, and this time he didn't shotgun it down. Instead, he waved the can lazily at the boys. 

"Go on, then. Show yer ol' man whatcha got," he said with a wink. "Then we'll see if the little girl can hold 'er own." 

Merle glanced at Will but scooped up the biggest of the guns, a shotgun you for the life of you couldn't remember how to load. Empty beer cans lined the fence a few feet away, courtesy of Will's day drinking so far today. Merle lined up his shot carefully and fired, knocking one can down. He kept going until all the cans had been blown away and Will hollered a loud 'that's the way, son!' 

"Ace, go set 'em back up," Will directed. "Daryl, fetch your ol' man another beer. Then it'll be yer turn, son." 

You trudged out to reset the cans, missing your sketchbook and your city and your room. Air conditioning, you listened mentally. Hell, you missed school, and fifth grade was kicking your goddamn ass. You bent, lifted a can, and hit the deck when something whizzed by your ear and the shotgun's blast echoed through the woods. 

Merle was screaming, Will was screaming, and Daryl came running out of the cabin as you rose slowly, shoving hair out of your face with shaking hands. 

Will had Merle by the throat, but your older brother knocked his hands aside. The shotgun lay on the ground where it had clearly been hurled, and you turned eyes that wouldn't quite process the scene to the scatter pattern bitten into the tree right beside where your head had been. 

Will had fucking shot at you, you thought dully. He'd shot at you. Well, probably not at you so much as at nothing at all, and you'd just happened to be-

Daryl's voice rose in a furious scream now too, and you looked back at the cabin to see Will slowly and grimly pulling his belt off. Merle held a hand to his cheek, and he gestured Daryl back when your twin balled up his fists and would have run at your dad. Merle pointed toward where you stood rooted in place, and Daryl's head whipped toward you. He nodded to Merle and started your way, and the first crack of Will's belt seemed to fill the air. 

You squeezed your eyes shut until Daryl reached your side and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly, asking if you were ok, and babbling a little in his own wild disbelief.

"He fuckin' shot at ya, and Merle knocked the gun out of his hands, an'-" 

And now your brother was getting beaten all to hell for it, you thought, flinching every time you heard the crack of Will's belt. Because other people always got hurt for you. 

Honestly, you'd rather Will had just shot you instead.


	26. Lie #26: "We Can Assign All Kinds of Blame" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mention of suicide  
character injury (cannon)  
mentions of domestic violence/abuse

Shane was too busy actually searching for Sophia and trying to keep the group covered to really work himself up into a good rage over things, but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about them. Ace walked with Daryl toward the front of the group, not tracking like her brother was, but just keeping him company. 

Every now and then Daryl would snort out a laugh or toss her a look from the corner of his eyes and shake his head wryly. He'd lean over and point something out to Ace, who'd nod like she knew exactly what he meant, though Shane had caught her rolling her eyes and mouthing 'what the fuck?' behind Daryl's back at one point. 

Shane was glad that if she wasn't sticking to his side, she was near Daryl. At least Dixon had a gun and that crossbow. 

Oh, Shane had no doubt she'd meant it when she said she could take care of herself with that knife- she said she'd fought her way out of Grady with Daryl, and T Dog had told him about her taking down a walker ready to eat T when the herd came through- but still. Shane was pissed she wouldn't take a gun, even just to hide one on her, just in case. 

"Besides, you'll be there. What more protection do I need?" she'd asked, and Shane had heard the naked flirtation in her voice. He'd seen the way her eyes went wide and her cheeks had flamed red, and damn if that wasn't adorable as hell. 

But it didn't change the fact that Shane wouldn't always be right there, and besides, even when he was there he did a shit job of protecting her, didn't he? 

He tried to shake off the bitter taste of guilt, but it wasn't working. Shane knew better than to think that way. He'd had all the fucking training, hadn't he? He knew that he couldn't let her see how much he blamed himself, because she'd just go straight into trying to make him feel better. Victims like that, they went into people-pleasing mode because they expected to be punished for how others felt. They felt responsible for other's emotions, and as soon as Shane had heard her saying it wasn't all that rapist bastard's fault, it was like a switch had been flipped in Shane's mind. He could look back on countless moments and see, with perfect 20/20 hindsight, when she'd been doing that with him in the past. 

Just something else to curse himself for missing, he thought grimly. 

Daryl and Ace stopped up ahead, Daryl turning to the group with a finger to his lips for silence. Shane moved forward with Rick, Ace dropping back to make room for him as they studied the tent. 

"She could be in there," Shane said. 

"Could be a whole bunch of things in there," Daryl agreed. He glanced at Ace. "Stay put." 

She rolled her eyes and held her hands up, expression annoyed, but took Daryl's crossbow when he handed it to her. She'd said she couldn't draw it or aim it, but she held it like a professional and Shane found himself wanting to see what she considered a 'shit shot'. He had a feeling other people would call it proficient.

Daryl slipped forward, and Shane had to admire the way he made zero noise on the bed of leaves and twigs. Shane was a pretty stealthy bastard when he needed to be, but Daryl Dixon in the woods was a fucking ghost. Daryl gestured Shane and Rick to stay put a few feet back from the tent, drew his knife, and moved up right to the entrance. He looked in a couple places then glanced back at them and shrugged. 

Rick glanced at Shane and they both turned to call Carol forward, only to see Ace already at the other woman's elbow, speaking into her ear as she led her toward them. Shane shook his head and gestured Ace to stay put while Carol came and called for Sophia. 

Nothing happened, so Daryl ducked into the tent and came right back out again looking fucking grim. 

No Sophia then.

"Daryl?" Ace asked, eyes on her brother. 

"Some guy. Did what Jenner said. Opted out," Daryl said in a disgusted voice. 

Ace nodded and handed him the crossbow back, her hand touching Daryl's arm in a way that made Shane think it was significant. He added it to the list of questions he wanted at least one of the Dixons to answer about their past, and Daryl cracked that faint smile only Ace ever got from him and started to say something else when church bells rung over the air. 

Inside the church they found three walkers and no little girl, and Ace handed over her big ass knife to Daryl and took his crossbow again with a sigh while Daryl, Rick, and Shane handled the walkers. 

Shane had thought everyone went back inside, but Lori called his name. She'd barely spoken to him since the CDC, and Shane turned in surprise. 

"You fixed up a car on the road," she said. "Why?" 

Shane shrugged. "It could be fixed." 

"Why don't you leave? That's what you're planning, isn't it?" 

Shane scoffed. No, it fucking wasn't, but wasn't it interesting how her mind worked? "That what you want?" 

"I think it'd be best." 

Shane shook his head, unable to believe this shit. "You came on to me, Lori." 

"That's such utter-" 

He spun and stared at her. "What the hell, woman? You forget how that went? You came to my tent. I didn't come to yours," he hissed. 

She looked away and shook her head. "Doesn't matter. You lied to me. Told me my husband was dead." 

"For the last time, Lor, I did not lie to you. I thought he was. I believed he was until I saw him standing there. Hell, I'm still not sure he's not a ghost." 

She paced a couple steps away. "I think you should leave." 

"Why?" He let the word rip out of him, let her hear what that did to his heart, to his soul. "Lori, tell me that. Why?" 

"Because I don't want you here. You're bad for my family." 

Shane scoffed. "Fuck you, Lor. I'm the reason you have your family. I'm the one listened to both you and Rick after your arguments, told you to just talk to each other. You wanna pretend like everything was perfect? Fine. Go ahead. But don't act like I'm the problem in yours and Rick's relationship." 

"Go to hell," she snapped. 

"Already there, sweetheart," Shane shot back, glaring at her. "No matter what happens, see, I lose. I lose all three of you, don't I?" 

Lori spun on her heel and walked into the church, and Shane ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He glanced around, and there was fucking Andrea, standing at the edge of the building and staring at him. 

Shit, Shane thought dully. Well, guess the cat was out of that fucking bag. 

He turned and walked away, not wanting to get into explanations of the ongoing mess that was his family life, but the woman followed him. 

"I'm going with you," she declared. 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he snapped. No matter what Lori suggested, Shane wasn't going fucking anywhere. 

Or was he? He didn't know what had made him fix the Hyundai. He just missed his Jeep, saw it there, and knew he could do it. So he did it. But he wasn't- he wasn't considering leaving. He had too much here, with these people. His whole damn family- Rick, Carl, Lori, Ace. 

But Lori wanted him to leave. Rick would as soon as he found out about Lori. Carl would hate him for driving his parents into arguing all the time again. 

And Ace was acting weird. She'd said friends first, benefits second, but they weren't really acting like friends right now, were they? 

What the hell was he thinking? Shane thought wildly. He wasn't leaving. 

"Look, I don't know what the story is-" Andrea started, and Shane scowled and brushed her off again. 

She planted herself in his path, grabbed his arm, and made him stop or run her over. "Have you observed this group lately? I have. There are two people who don't belong. Between the two of us, we make a good third wheel." 

"What, we gonna hold hands, ride off into the sunset together?" Shane sneered at her, not believing what he was fucking hearing. 

She thought he'd go just because Lori said it? No. Fuck that. Shane had saved these people. Shane was responsible for these people- all of them. Whether they agreed with that or not. 

"I'm not asking you to go steady, Shane, I'm asking you for a ride," she snapped back. 

Shane snorted at her word choice, the same as Ace's when she'd made Shane an offer he liked a hell of a lot better than this one. Of course, Ace chose that moment to wander around the corner of the church, clearly lost in her own little world. She stopped to study a headstone, and Shane couldn't help smiling at her. 

Andrea scoffed. "Fine. Just- think it over," she muttered. 

"Andrea," he called as she walked away from him. She turned, and Shane tore his eyes from Ace, who'd started doing that thing where she sketched into thin air. 

Shane focused on Andrea's expectant, impatient gaze and shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her. 

He meant it. These were his people, and Rick was his best friend and Carl was his nephew and Lori could go to hell if she wanted, but Shane wasn't leaving. Ace was his friend, too; his person. He was going to fix whatever was so off between them, even if it meant they dropped the benefits thing and went to being only friends again. 

Even if the thought of not having his hands on her skin and her mouth on his again made him want to scream at the world.

He was annoyed enough at Lori, at Andrea, at the idea of not being with Ace ever again that the first thing out of him mouth was more assholish than he'd intended and he winced even as it spilled out.

"Why the fuck are you avoiding me?" he snapped. 

Ace blinked, focused on him, and her cheeks flooded with color. "What?" 

He sighed, shoved a hand through his hair, and reached out absently to tuck a loose strand of hers behind her ear. "Sorry; I didn't- Ace, I'm sorry if I pushed you into telling me things," he said, forcing himself to calm the fuck down. 

This was Ace. He wasn't going to come at her all angry and aggressive. She'd had enough of that from Mal; and besides, he wasn't mad at her. He just missed her, that was all. And it'd only been a couple days of this weirdness.

Her eyes went soft and wide and she reached for him, covering the hand clenched on his shotgun with hers. 

"Shane, you didn't," she said, looking all goddamn earnest and confused in the sunlight. 

Shane wished the phone he still had shoved into his pack worked so he could take a picture of her right then, the flush of color fading in her cheeks and that look in her eyes. 

"Then why are things so weird with us, Slugger?" he asked, all the irritation fading away with her hand on his.

She took that hand back, chewing absently at her thumbnail in a Daryl-like gesture. Shane pulled her hand away from her mouth, kissed her thumb, and kept holding her hand in his while she stood there blinking at him, her eyes popping wide and surprised. 

He scowled at her. "What?" he asked. 

She shook her head, swallowing hard enough that he could see it and tightening her hand on his. "Nothing. Nothing. Shane, I'm sorry. I've been-" 

"Shane! Ace! Come 'ere!" Daryl yelled. 

Shane glared over at him and found the group gathered in a knot, Rick and Daryl waving them over. He sighed and let go of her hand to wave back. 

"Hold that thought, Slugger," he muttered to her, and she gave a strained smile and fell in step beside him. 

Rick wanted to stay at the church, but there was a lot of territory left to cover still on the way back.

"Come on, man, these people are spent," Shane said. 

Rick shook his head and Shane read the guilt and the worry in his friends face. "I can't go back. It's my fault that she's out here." 

"That's great, man," Shane scoffed. "Now they've got you doubting yourself." 

"What about you?" Rick said instantly. "Do you doubt me?"

See, the thing was, Shane didn't. He thought leaving her there wasn't the decision he would have made, but Shane hadn't been there. And Rick always, always made the safe play. Shane was the wild card. 

"Look, man, we can assign all kinds of blame," he started, and Rick interrupted him with that expression that meant Shane was about to do what Rick wanted, along with everyone else, and arguing was futile. 

"This means something, finding her. This would be the miracle we need," Rick insisted, and Shane sighed.

He shook his head, smiling faintly at Rick because wasn't this so typical? He clapped Rick on the shoulder and turned toward the group. "Alright, people, we're going to split up. Me and Rick are gonna hang back, search for a couple more hours. You're heading to the RV. Daryl's in charge."

Shane saw dissent in nearly everyone's faces, but Rick was nodding and started to hand Lori his gun. Andrea scoffed, looking disgusted, and Shane ignored her to try to catch Ace's eye. 

She was deep in a whispered argument with Dixon, shaking her head in clear refusal of something. Then Daryl sighed and pulled a four-shot revolver from under his shirt, shoving it in Lori's direction when Lori refused Rick's Python. 

"Here, I've got a spare. Take it," he muttered to Lori, and stalked off. 

Ace glanced over at Shane. "Be careful, ok?" she told him. "You too, Rick." 

Shane just nodded. 

Carl came with them and Shane was fine with that. Maybe with a buffer between him and Rick, Shane wouldn't do something stupid like confess to fucking Rick's wife in the bushes when he thought Rick was dead. 

A twig broke in the trees and Shane held up a hand for Carl to stay put just behind them as Rick moved forward to investigate. Rick smiled and waved them forward, and Shane relaxed as well when he saw it was just a deer. 

He started to take aim- Daryl Dixon wasn't the only one who could bring in the venison- but Rick pushed his gun down, nodding at Carl. 

Shane couldn't help the smile as he watched the kid's awestruck expression. Shane glanced back at Rick, for a minute it was like everything else faded away, like it was the two of them before the world went to shit and they were brothers again, watching Carl approach the deer slowly with his hand out. 

He almost made it too, and Shane thought again about having his camera so he could take this picture for Ace to draw it later- the boy with his hand out, the deer staring at him with one ear twitched back, the light filtering through the green all around. 

She'd probably put Shane and Rick in it as well, watching Carl with all the wonder Carl watched the deer, he thought. 

Then the gunshot shattered the silence and Shane's heart stopped beating as both the deer and the boy fell. 

Rick ran for Carl. Shane ran for whatever dead bastard had just shot his best friend's son.


	27. Lie #27: "I'm Going To Find Them"  - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentions of drug use  
mentions of STD's

Shane had asked why things were weird and you honestly had no idea what you were going to say. 

He'd kissed your fingers, tucked your hair behind your ear, held your hand, all while he looked at you like that- 

Like he had in the CDC, just before he'd told you that you fascinated him. 

Jesus, Ace. Get yourself together, damn it, you thought with a roll of your eyes as you stepped over the log just behind Daryl. What the hell was going on with you? 

It was Shane. Your best friend Dickhead, the guy you drug into trouble and poured drinks for and traded insults with. You were Slugger, the one he rescued from trouble, shared his bad days with when they were eating him alive, and trusted to take care of his ass when he got drunk. You were his pal, and he was yours. That was all. Right? Right. 

"So is this it? This is the whole plan?" Carol said from behind you. 

You turned to see her sitting on the log you'd stepped over, looking exhausted and worried. Everyone else stopped as well, and you leaned against a tree and hated yourself for angsting away about Shane when this woman's daughter was missing in a forest full of walkers.

"Plan seems to be to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups," Daryl put in from just behind you. 

"Carrying knives and pointy sticks," Andrea put in sarcastically, and you rolled your eyes. "I see you have a gun," she told Lori pointedly. 

In a move you could respect, even if the woman just pissed you off for some reason, Lori looked Andrea dead in the eyes. "Why, do you want it?" she snapped. "Here. Take it." 

She extended it to Andrea butt first, and Andrea took it slowly, like she was afraid she was getting tricked.

You snorted and glanced at Daryl, telepathically yelling 'see?' at him. That right there was one of the many, many reasons you'd refused to take the gun he'd picked up off the dead guy in the tent. 

"I'm sick of the looks you're giving me," Lori added. "All of you." 

She sat down with a bottle of water from her backpack and was silent a minute. Daryl looked at you like he was trying to figure out if he was supposed to be doing something here, and you shrugged slightly. 

Shane had left your brother in charge, not you. 

"Honey, I can't imagine what you're going through," Lori told Carol, that bitchy edge that you'd gotten directed at you more than once in her voice now. "And I would do anything to stop it, but you have got to stop blaming Rick. It is in your face every time you look at him. When Sophia ran, he didn't hesitate, did he? Not for a second." 

Carol looked away from Lori without speaking, shifting on the log. 

"I don't know that any of us would have gone after her the way he did or made the hard decisions that he had to make or that anybody could have done it any differently," Lori continued. 

You agreed with her on principle- it certainly wasn't Rick's fault. He was a good man, a good officer, and he'd done what he thought was best. You trusted his judgement. 

You resented the idea that none of the rest of you would have done that. You would have. Daryl would have. Shane would have. But no, it was all about Rick, like it had been since he'd come back. 

Yes, Rick was her husband and he'd come back from the dead. It was a goddamn miracle and you were happy for all of them. But she'd been treating Shane like shit for long enough now- since Rick had come back- that you didn't believe this whole speech wasn't a dig at the man who had given every single fucking thing he had to protect her and her son. 

"Y'all look to him, and then you blame him when he's not perfect," she muttered after scanning the group. "If you think you can do this without him, go right ahead. Nobody is stopping you." 

She drank angrily from her water and shoved it back into her pack, and you rolled your eyes when Andrea handed Lori the gun back. 

Daryl eyed you as you stalked along in the rear, the others ahead of you by a couple of feet. He dropped back to fall into step beside you, and you batted a branch out of your way with a scowl. 

"Ya aight, sis?" he asked cautiously. 

You glared at him. "What the fuck was that speech all about?" 

He blinked at you, but you weren't done. 

"I mean, yeah. Rick's done some hard things. He's made tough calls, and he worked a goddamn miracle getting us into and then out of that disaster of a CDC. And yeah, he went right after Sophia. I don't disagree with her on all of that," you said in a hiss, gesturing wildly. 

"So what's the problem?" Daryl asked, looking like he'd rather poke a hornet's nest with a stick to see if it was active than ask you that question. 

"Shane!" you snapped. "What about Shane, huh? Where's her speech in support of all the shit Shane went through getting them out and setting up the camp and taking care of everyone? Huh? She looks at him these days like he's Satan and Hitler's bastard love child, and for what? Because he was wrong about Rick being dead? I've heard him talk about it, Dar, he did everything he fucking could!" 

You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, glaring at your brother's amused face. "What the hell are you smilin' at?" 

"So ya fucked him again, didn't ya?" Daryl asked dryly. 

You blinked, because that was not what you'd expected. "What? Why would you- ok, yeah. Yeah, I did," you admitted in a rush of air, tossing your hands up. You shifted your weight back on your feet, bracing for the inevitable grilling to follow. "Go ahead, get it all out now. It doesn't mean anything. I got drunk and..." 

Daryl snorted, tossing his head. "He said ya were just blowin' off steam." 

Well, that hurt a little. You knew you'd decided to be friends with benefits, but it had seemed almost like it was a little more important to him than that, you thought. You shrugged it off and nodded. 

"Yeah. We're just friends who occasionally fuck, that's all," you muttered, looking away from him. Except he hadn't liked that, you remembered. He'd said it sounded too cold, and you'd wondered what he meant by that, damn it. 

But if blowing off steam wasn't cold, then you guessed fucking wasn't either. So yeah. You were friends who occasionally fucked.

"Mmm," Daryl said. "Ya like him." 

It wasn't a question, and you didn't bother to respond like it was one. You flipped him off and started walking again, not wanting the group to get too far ahead of you. 

"Shut up, asshole," you muttered when he laughed and followed.

The single gunshot had echoed faintly through the trees an hour or so back, and you were still worried about it. 

Lori was too, you knew, and you tried not to be a total bitch toward her. After all, her husband and son were out there. There wasn't anything you could do about it, though, because Daryl was right. There was no point in wandering around the woods chasing echoes.

As the sun went down, Daryl called a halt. Lori agreed, and you headed back toward camp. Everyone was exhausted, it seemed, including you. You hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, after all. 

When Andrea started screaming, you took off, machete in hand. Daryl was half a step behind you, growling 'damn it, Ace' as he shoved passed to take the lead, crossbow up at his eye. 

Hooves pounding the ground were the last thing you expected to be added to the cacophony in the woods, and you pulled up to an abrupt, confused halt as a bat-wielding cowgirl knocked the walker off Andrea with one clean swing and drew the horse up. 

She looked from Andrea on the ground to your group. "Lori? Lori Grimes? I'm looking for a Lori Grimes and an Ace." 

The world titled under you as you and Lori looked at each other, and you saw your sudden rush of pure fear reflected in her eyes. 

"I'm Ace," you managed after a pause. "That's Lori." 

The woman on horseback reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it out to you as she looked at Lori. "This is for Ace, from Shane. He and Rick sent me. Lori, you need to come with me now." 

"What?" Lori asked, bewildered, as you took the paper from the cowgirl and stared at it blankly. 

"There's been an accident. Carl's been shot. He's still alive, but you've got to come now. Rick needs you, just come!" 

Your eyes flew up to the woman on the horse and then to Lori, who was already dropping her pack and climbing up behind the cowgirl. 

"Woah, woah, woah. We don't know this girl!" Daryl objected. 

You opened the paper with trembling hands and stared at familiar handwriting without seeing the words. "This is from Shane. Lori, go," you snapped. 

"Rick said you have others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?" the woman continued as Lori settled onto the horse behind her. 

You nodded. 

"Backtrack to Fairburn Road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox. Name's Greene. Hiyah!" 

The last was directed at the horse, and she and Lori were gone in the same flurry they'd arrived. 

You stared after them before forcing your eyes back to the paper in your shaking hands as Daryl started yelling at everyone. "Dar, shut up," you mumbled. 

He didn't, but Shane's words were more important than Daryl raging at you. 

Slugger- 

Carl's been shot. He needs shit and I'm going to do something stupid and get it for him. Want to talk to you when I get back. Just in case I don't for some reason- naw, that's too morbid. See you soon, Ace. 

\- Dickhead 

"Daryl, shut the fuck up!" you screamed at him now, shoving the paper into your pocket as the sick fear refused to ease. If anything 'I'm going to do something stupid' had made it worse, and you- you needed to follow Lori. 

"Just- shut up," you added more quietly, raking your fingers into your hair. "We need to get back. I have to- we need to get back."

Daryl gave you a worried, wide-eyed look as you scrubbed a shaking hand over your face and looked around, trying to remember which direction you'd been heading in. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you to him, kissing your forehead, then turned you around and gave you a nudge. "Yeah. Aight. Come on, it ain't far." 

"Shot? What do you mean shot?" Dale yelled. 

"I don't know, Dale. I wasn't there," Glenn said, sounding panicked. "All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori." 

"You let her?" Dale snapped at Daryl. 

"Climb down out of my asshole, man. Rick and Shane sent her. She knew Lori's name and Carl's. Ace's too." 

Dale's eyes shot to you, but you were already heading toward Shane's fixed-up Hyundai. "I'm going to find them," you called over your shoulder. "Who's coming with me?" 

"Ace, hold up," Daryl called. "Wait just half a minute, damn it. Cain't have everyone tearin' off in different directions." 

"Daryl!" 

"Settle down, sis, I didn't say don't go," he snapped. "I said hold up half a fuckin' minute." 

Carol refused to leave the highway, which you got, you supposed. But you were going to Fairburn Road to find a farmhouse marked Greene, and see if your idiot best friend had gotten himself killed without bothering to say goodbye except in some half-assed note that didn't really say anything. 

Daryl looked from you to Carol, finally deciding that he'd stay the night with the RV. Dale said if the RV stayed, he was staying, and Andrea agreed as well. Glenn tried to stay too, but Dale cut him off. 

"No, Glenn, you're going. Ace should have help, especially since we need to send T Dog." 

You glanced over at T. "Ace can handle herself, but Glenn would be welcome to come along. What's wrong with T?" 

"That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm, see if they have any antibiotics. Because if not, T Dog will die, no joke." 

Daryl scoffed beside you and headed for Merle's bike. He came back with a rag and a Ziplock bag of pill bottles in his hands. 

"Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle," he snapped at Dale, tossing the rag at him. The Ziplock he plopped on the hood of the car and started going through it, and you groaned. 

"Why'd you wait till now to say anything?" he asked over his shoulder. "Got my brother's stash." 

"Why the hell do you have that?" you snapped at him. "I thought he was out of shit." 

"Yeah, 'cause I hid it from him," Daryl muttered. "Figured he'd come down an' be a halfway decent fuckin' human being again. Only it didn't work like that, did it? Crystal, X, don't need that. Got some kickass painkillers." 

You took those and shoved them into your pocket to offer for Carl. "Can't believe he had all this shit. This is what he was doing while you busted me out of the hospital?" 

Daryl snorted. "Naw, this is just what he done had at home before we left. Here. Oxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the clap on occasion." 

He handed you the bottle and smirked. "Guess maybe we should be holdin' on to it, see if you get the clap instead, huh sis?"

Your fists clenched and you hauled off without another thought. You clocked him a solid blow on the jaw, not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough he'd get the message. You hoped. 

Carol gasped behind you as Daryl's head snapped to the side, but he waved her off, rotating his jaw and swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. You stared him down wordlessly, and he nodded, eyes apologetic. 

"Wasn't funny. I get it. Sorry, Ace. Be safe, ok? I'll see ya in the mornin'," he muttered, and leaned in and kissed your cheek. 

You tipped your forehead to his shoulder and he scoffed and rubbed a hand on your back gently. When you felt your eyes start to burn, you shoved away from him and headed toward the Hyundai. "Glenn! T Dog! We're rolling!"


	28. Lie #28: "Just Drop and Roll" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
trauma and PTSD  
minor character death (cannon)

Shane's world had narrowed to Rick's retreating back, Carl's pale, still face over Rick's shoulder, and hauling the bastard who'd shot Carl along with them as they ran. The man had said there was a doctor who could help Carl, and that was the only reason he was alive. 

The only goddamn reason. 

And if Carl died? 

Shane's mind shuddered away from that thought as Rick turned and screamed at Otis- the dead man walking- about how much farther. 

Shane waved Rick ahead, grabbed Otis by the collar, and kept moving. One foot in front of the next. Second after second, as the little boy Shane loved like his own bled in his best friend's arms. 

Shane's hands shook as he wiped blood off Rick's face, blood off Rick's hands. He couldn't look too long, because if he did, that turned into Rick's blood on Shane's own hands, Shane screaming 'officer down!' over his shoulder and whispering for Rick to stay with him, stay with him. 

But Shane wasn't in a field next to a crashed car; he was somewhere worse, somewhere he was even more helpless- and he had to keep it together 'cause Rick was fucking falling apart. Shane wasn't exactly what anyone in his life would have called stable- except maybe Ace and what did she know about stability, really?- but here he was, pretending he was a- a goddamn fortress against the storm for Rick. For Carl. 

He took the bloodstained fabric from Rick's hands, and for some reason his hands being clean was a relief, even as Shane followed him inside and saw Carl, looking so small and pale and still on the bed. 

See, Shane thought maybe he was born to have blood on his hands, his or someone else's, but Rick wasn't like that. Rick didn't have battered knuckles and bloodstained nails, and he certainly wasn't supposed to start down that road like this. So Shane held Carl's blood between his fingers and wondered if he would wreck every member of the family he loved so much eventually, because he certainly seemed to have made it three for three- Rick bleeding on the ground, Lori's body moving with his in the dirt, Carl falling backwards in slow motion; and what did they all have in common?

He stared at the floor and listened to the clock ticking and Rick's erratic breathing beside him. 

"Why did I let him come with us?" Rick asked, his voice breaking. "I should have sent him with Lori." 

Goddamn it. Shane thought of stone and steel and forced himself out of his own swirling, repetitious thoughts. "You know, you start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back," he managed. 

Because he knew. He knew, because he'd second guessed every goddamn decision he'd ever made, and he wasn't stopping now. He wondered why he hadn't seen the third man when Rick got shot, why he hadn't seen all the signs before Ace ended up bleeding, why he hadn't done more to get Rick out of that nightmare of a hospital, why he hadn't checked the area more thoroughly after they saw the deer. Shane knew better. He knew there could have still been dangers out there, and- 

"A little girl goes missing, you look for her," Rick said. 

Shane could feel the earthquake coming to rattle his wall to rubble.

"He can't go more than fifty feet from this bed," the old man snapped at Shane. 

Shane nodded, knowing he was right. Rick needed to be right here, to give Carl more blood. And Shane- Shane needed a task, any task, so he wouldn't have to think about Carl's little body writhing in pain as Shane held him down and- 

"Lori has to be here. Shane, she has to know," Rick insisted. 

Shane drew in a deep breath and wondered how anyone got through something like this with their sanity intact because he knew for a fact his wasn't going to be. "Ok. I get that. I'm gonna handle it," he told Rick, a chorus of 'please don't ask how, please don't ask how' tumbling through his brain he didn't fucking have a clue. He just would, and he'd keep Rick here, and Carl would be ok. "But you've gotta handle your end." 

"My- my end?" Rick asked, looking up at him. 

Shane dropped to a crouch and looked Rick dead in the eyes. "Your end is being here, for your son. Even if he didn't need your blood to survive, there is no way I'd ever let you walk out that door. Man, I'd- I'd break your legs if you tried." 

Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Maybe it was just another sign that all Shane was good for was violence and action and blood on his hands, but it was what Shane had to offer Rick right then. And he guessed it worked, because Rick was going anywhere and Shane was trying to figure out how he could be in two places at once, when the door opened and Hershel stepped out looking grim.

The old man needed supplies, medical shit Shane didn't know anything about, in order to have a shot at saving Carl's life. Otis, the dead bastard walking, thought he knew where they could find the shit, but it was overrun last time he'd seen it. 

Shane sighed and looked at Rick. "Well, I said leave the rest to me. Is it too late to take that back?"

Rick got that intense look in his eyes, and Shane thought if there was one thing about this situation that was in any way remotely good, it was seeing his partner look at him like his partner again. 

"I hate you going alone," Rick said. 

Shane blew that off, not meeting Rick's eyes, because to tell the truth he was less than happy about it as well. On the other hand, alone meant he could take stupid risks and get results, both things Shane was good at when unhindered by other considerations. "Come on. Doc, why don't you make me a list and draw me a map?" 

"Won't need a map. I'll take you. It ain't but five miles," Otis spoke up. 

Shane weighed that while Otis argued with his wife, but shit. Backup was better, he supposed. All things considered. And since it was the dead bastard walking, Shane didn't even really see how it had to change his potential plans any.

Somewhere deep inside, that thought should bother him, but there was a little boy who called him Uncle Shane lying in the next room and that was more important than anything else in Shane's whole damn world.

"Where is she? Your wife?" Maggie, the old man's daughter, asked Rick. "I'll find her." 

Rick went in to sit with Carl for a bit while they got what they needed. Shane caught Maggie's arm as she moved by him, chewing on his lip as his mind raced. 

"Sorry, but I was wondering- you got a pen, some paper? I want to leave a note for Ace," he said, not registering that she wouldn't know who the hell he was talking about. 

She nodded and grabbed a notepad from a desk nearby, crossing back over to hand it to him along with a pen. "She your wife? Girlfriend?" 

Shane scoffed a little, already scribbling. He paused and shoved a hand through his hair, backtracking what he'd been about to write because-

Well, because he didn't have the right words, damn it. 

"No. No, she's- she's important, though," he said, signing it 'Dickhead' and ripping off the page. It was nothing; meaningless really, but it mattered to him, what with the stupid he was pretty sure he'd be engaging in today. He wanted Ace to know- well, that at least he'd thought about her before he did it. Not that it would matter much in the end, if worse came to worst, but still. He folded it in half and then looked around, wondering where to leave it for her. 

Maggie was watching him with a faint smile. "She with Rick's wife?" 

Shane nodded and she took the notepad and pen from him and dropped them onto the side table nearby. 

"I'll take it to her then," Maggie offered. "I won't read it." 

Shane laughed lightly, heat climbing his neck as he ran a hand through his hair. He passed it over to her with a shrug. "Don't matter if you do. No big deal. Just don't want her to worry, that's all." 

"Well," Maggie said softly, slipping the folded paper into her pocket. "If she's important enough to leave a note for, she's going to worry no matter what. I'll get it to her. Take care of Otis." 

Shane didn't make any promises, but he loaded his pocket full of shells for his shotgun.

Shane eased his phone around the corner with the camera on, angling it so he could see the screen and hopefully whatever was around the corner. It didn't work, and he rolled his eyes and ducked further out, trying to stay as hidden as possible. 

He didn't know why he'd bothered, since Ace was so damn focused on what she was doing he could have fired the siren on his cruiser off and she might not have noticed. Her hair was tucked up under that hat, just a few strands of emerald green falling along the back of her neck and sweeping against her cheek. She had a paint-splattered bandanna tied around the lower half of her face, paint on her fingers, her clothes, her sneakers, the bag open at her feet. 

She also had the shifty look he knew meant what she was doing wasn't one-hundred percent legal, and he considered how badly he wanted to proceed here. Thing was, he owed her one. She'd tucked a bunch of that chalk shit or something- he wasn't really sure; art wasn't his thing, damn it- into his windshield wiper last week while he was at the Lullaby. Next morning he went to drive into work in the rain, flicked the wipers, and suddenly had a goddamn rainbow across his windshield. Rick had taken one look and asked if he'd found the pot of gold, at least, and called him a leprechaun all damn day.

Shane'd laughed his ass off after screaming bloody murder, not that he'd tell her that. 

So, really, this was her own fault, he decided.

She tossed the can in her left hand down into the bag and the one in her right over to her left like she was flipping bottles behind the bar, and Shane grinned and pulled his phone back up. She stretched all the way to her toes, like a fucking ballerina in those impossible shoes, and Shane snapped a series of pictures as she made a wide pass over the wall, then leaned in and touched just her fingertips to it for balance as she did a series of short, close bursts. He switched to video when she eased back down, studied the wall, and bent to switch cans. 

As she stood back up he stepped around the corner, still recording. "Police, drop the can and put your hands up!" 

Ace jumped and whirled, eyes tracking. Shane watched her debate running for a minute, then she really looked at him and her eyes narrowed. 

"Shane fucking Walsh! What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yelled, yanking the bandanna down to glare at him harder. "I can get arrested for this, you shithead!" 

He stopped recording and slid his phone back in his pocket, shrugging. "That's the point, Slugger. Maybe you shouldn't be doing it if you don't want to be caught." 

She glared harder before her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. "You know what this means. It's my turn again. You sure you want to risk it, Mr. Don't Fucking Touch My Jeep Ever Again?" 

Shane hooked his thumbs on his duty belt and smirked at her. "I'll risk it. Almost done?"

"Yeah, almost. Why you up here in uniform, Officer Walsh?" she asked, turning back to the wall and bending down for a can of black paint. She sized up what she'd created, then moved in, bent half over, and started on her tag. 

"Got called for jury duty. Figured it'd be best to let them know what they're gettin' into right away," he said. 

She laughed and dropped the can into her bag, zipping it and tossing it over her shoulder. Shane reached for it automatically, but she pulled it back out of his reach. 

"Wet paint, Dickhead. Wouldn't do to get it all over your uniform, would it? I guess they were pretty quick to turn you loose."

"Yeah, I-" 

"Oh shit," she muttered, interrupting him with wide eyes. "That's a plainclothes car. Quick, either cuff me or get ready to run, Deputy." 

Shane glanced over his shoulder to see what she was staring at with such worry. He didn't see anything, and when he turned back, she was bolting up the street cackling like a manic, yelling 'catch me if you can!' 

Shane shook his head and headed for his Jeep, knowing damn well he'd never catch up to her on foot in her city. 

But he knew where her spare key was. 

Shane's day went from weird to shitty to the walking- well running- definition of absolute fucking hell. The place was goddamn overrun alright, but he saw the Sheriff's vehicle and got a couple bright ideas. They panned out well enough, he supposed- until they didn't. 

They got everything on the list, opened the door, and the flares had burned out. 

So they started running. 

They got pinned in the gym, on top of bleachers. Shane did some rapid calculations, and the only way out he thought had a prayer of working involved a tiny window, a 20-foot drop, and a sprint across an athletic field. Clearly, the time had come for some of those reckless decisions Rick was always on his ass about. 

Guess it was a good thing he'd played every fucking sport known to man, though he wasn't sure if he was a player in this game or the ball. 

Otis wouldn't fit through the window, and Shane made the first of a series of soul-eating calls and agreed to Otis' counter plan of drawing them away. Otis was a good man, despite what he'd done to Carl that landed them in this mess, and Shane didn't want to lose him. He hoped the bastard made it. Thing was, though, Shane didn't see any way around what Otis was saying, and- and he had Carl's life to think about. Carl's and his own.

Shane was starting to regret not trying to find some fucking better words for Ace after all, but he shoved that back out of his mind again and laid down cover fire.

When Otis was out of sight and had drawn most of the walkers with him, Shane made his move. He took down two walkers who didn't stay focused on Otis, broke the glass from the window, and dropped the first of the two packs. He winced at the distance and the few piddly bushes below and shoved the second pack after the first. He dropped his shotgun out as well, then balanced on the ledge and gave himself a mental pep talk. 

It was short, sweet, and to the point, and the voice sounded a lot like Ace's, come to think of it, laughing as he followed her over a roof and down half a building via fire escapes that ended ten feet off the ground. "It's easy, Dickhead. Just drop and roll," she teased, tossing her bag over the side and flashing him a grin as she followed the bag in a flash of hair some color that made him think of red wine held up to sunlight. 

"Just drop and roll," he muttered to himself, and clung to the ledge by his finger tips. 

Yeah, that had been bullshit advice then and it was bullshit advice now.

'Course then a fucking walker grabbed him by the shirt. No help for it, Shane was dead if he didn't get free and that meant Carl would be too, so he pulled his gun- the one he kept trying to get her to take; maybe Ace was saving his goddamn life with her stubbornness and Carl's too- and shot the bastard in the head. 

He had time for one coherent thought as he fell, and it was "fuck." 

Ace sat perched on the railing, her legs drawn up to her chest and her back against a pillar, and Shane stared at her as he pulled up. 

She was wearing his shirt again, he thought dully, layered open over whatever t shirt she'd ripped in half and tied back together most recently. She sprang to her feet, eyes wide, when his headlights cut across her, her shoulders tight and worried until he cut the engine and stepped out. 

Lori, Rick, and the old man came out of the house and Shane forced his eyes from Ace to Rick. 

"Carl?" he asked urgently as Rick smiled at him like the fucking prodigal son come home. 

"Still a chance," Rick said. 

Shane passed the bags to Hershel and Glenn, relief warring with the mental static he couldn't seem to find his way through anymore. 

"Otis?" Hershel asked, and Shane shook his head. 

"We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her!" The old man declared, and went into the house to hopefully save Carl's life. 

He said something to Rick, some nonsense he didn't even hear as he said it, while Rick hugged him and Lori looked on with her eyes wide. 

And Ace- 

Shane glanced at Ace and she was staring at him too, tears on her cheeks and just the tips of her fingers visible under the sleeve of his shirt, pressed to her lips. 

And he- Shane couldn't look at her. He couldn't face her, not now and maybe not ever again, not after- 

Not with the blood on his hands now.


	29. Lie #29: "I Just Know Some Things" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
murder  
domestic violence/abuse  
mentions of past child abuse  
angst

When the headlights raked over you, the lead weight in your stomach finally started to fade. You'd gotten here with T and Glenn, been introduced to the cowgirl- Maggie- and the others. You'd checked in with Lori and Rick, and Carl- 

You swallowed hard, trying not to think about Carl looking like that. 

Every bitchy thought you'd had about Lori had faded away as she clung to Rick's hand and stared at Carl expressionlessly. Both the kids, you thought tiredly. The little girl lost in the woods, out there in the dark; the little boy in the bed with the pale face and distended stomach- 

You knew better than to get attached to kids, damn it.

You'd retreated to the porch after asking if there was a suture kit you could use on T Dog's arm and giving over the painkillers and antibiotics you'd brought for Carl. Patricia and Maggie had given you a look and asked if you were a medical professional, and you'd scoffed. 

"No, I just know some things," you mumbled. "Basic first aid, stitches. Nothing major." 

Patricia had handled T Dog's arm, you'd stuck your head in to see if Lori and Rick needed anything, and Rick looked at you, his eyes red rimmed and concerned, but with that practiced urgency he'd turned on Jenner. 

"He'll be back," he said firmly. "Soon." 

You'd forced a smile and a nod and fucking run away, to the railing, where you'd closed your eyes and prayed for a miracle.

And Shane had made it back, limping and alone when Maggie had told you he'd left with someone named Otis. In terms of instant relief, you didn't think you'd ever had a better drug than seeing him come out of that truck. It didn't last long, though, because you got a look at his face.

Shane looked- 

Shit. You'd seen Shane wrecked before. You'd seen him after god-awful shifts- after calls that left him exhausted and blank-eyed, shoulders slumped and with the weight of endless guilt piled on him because he was such a damn hero he believed it was his fault if someone couldn't be saved. You'd seen him break down over leaving Rick behind, and you'd thought, genuinely, that you would never see him look worse than that night. But tonight?

Shane's eyes terrified you. 

That is, they did in the nanosecond he'd looked your way before ignoring you completely. You reached for his hand when Hershel said Carl had stabilized, all of you on the porch in dead silence shooting to your feet along with Lori and Rick, but he moved right past you without so much as a look, heading into the house to shower at Maggie's insistence. 

You frowned and huddled into the flannel shirt of his you'd swiped from his pack before leaving the RV, wishing Daryl were here. Or, really just wishing Shane himself would come talk to you, so you could make sure Dickhead really was back safe and sound.

God, you needed him to be ok. 

Shane opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, and you swung your legs down off your perch on the railing. You hesitated, wondering if he would even want you to come talk to him after the way he'd brushed you off before. 

His shoulders hitched as he stared blankly into the night and he lifted a hand you could see was shaking and scrubbed it across his face. Yeah, ok, fuck that, you thought, and went to him. 

"Shane?" you whispered. 

He jerked, sucking in a ragged breath, and his head dropped. He didn't speak or turn toward you, but you closed the distance between you anyway and studied him in the play of light and shadows from the windows behind you. 

He'd shaved his head.

Huh. You tilted your head to the side, considering the lack of all that thick hair you'd really enjoyed having your hands in. He'd shaved it all, down to a buzz. It was.... interesting, you decided. Intriguing.

He turned slightly, not quite toward you but more a three quarter profile. Light hit the side of his face, throwing sharp and harsh contrast over him. Yeah, it was very interesting, and you fought the urge to slide your hands over his head and down his neck, to know how it changed things, not getting your fingers tangled up in his hair. And you wanted to draw him some more, without the distraction from the shape of his eyes and his nose and his lips and- 

Now was not the time, you ordered yourself sternly. You shook off your musings on sketching Shane right here, like this, in charcoal or pen and ink, and took another step his way when he turned back toward the night. He wore overalls and a shirt that hung off him like they were three sizes too big, and there was that something in the way he carried himself that scared the shit out of you. Not made you scared of him, but scared for him. 

Something was very wrong with your Shane, and you reached blindly for his hand because you didn't know what else to do. 

His hand twitched when your fingers closed on his, and for a moment you thought he was going to pull away from you. 

Then he latched on, tight enough to grind the bones in your hand together; a punishing grip that spoke more clearly that he was not ok than any words he could have said. You leaned against the railing and waited in silence, watching his face as it shifted and contorted with things he started to say and then didn't. He was fighting a war with himself, and you could do nothing but watch and wait. 

"I- I tried," he whispered finally, shaking his head and still not looking at you. "I tried, Ace. I tried." 

"Shane, you- you pulled off a miracle," you whispered, thinking about what he'd told Rick. They'd been surrounded; his ankle was messed up. There was nothing Shane could have done. 

"No," he snapped, jerking toward you with a glare. "No. I didn't. You don't- you don't know." 

You reached your free hand up to touch his cheek, your pulse picking up as the blank, broken look in his eyes and edge in his voice brought to mind all the bad you kept set away in a dark corner of your mind. The look in his eyes brought back the first time you'd looked at yourself in a mirror in the hospital; the tone of his voice echoed with the crack of Will's belt and screaming agony in your back. You hated, hated, hated the idea that Shane had seen something out there bad enough to leave that look on him. He was strength personified; he wasn't like you.

He jerked away from your touch, grabbing your wrist and mumbling something under his breath as he kept you from offering the comfort you knew he needed. 

You sighed and let your hand drop, pushing up to sit on the railing when he let go of his bone-crushing grip on your other hand as well. "Tell me," you said simply. 

He ran both hands across his head, refusing to look you in the eyes, and paced a few steps away. "No. No. I can't." 

"Dickhead, come on," you whispered, fear curling into grim nausea and cold creeping up your spine. "Just tell me. You've told me hard shit before. I can help. Let me help." 

He laughed, wild and harsh and manic, and shot an empty smile over his shoulder at you. "Not like this. I can't- you won't- not like this." 

"Why the hell not?" you demanded, deciding a firmer hand was called for here. If he was going to be a stubborn bastard about it, you would be too. He needed to talk to someone, damn it, and it was fucking going to be you. 

You wished you could pour him a drink and slide it over the bar to him; that always got him to open up before. 

"Because, Ace, it's-" he strangled a yell and slammed his palm into the pillar, and you blessed every god in the books that he was facing away from you and didn't see you jump. 

"It can't be worse than some of what you saw on the job, Shane, and I handled that just fine," you told him. 

He whirled back to you, eyes stormy as he stalked your way. You met his challenge with a calm, patient expression, and when he was close enough, you took his face in your hands before he could stop you. 

"Shane. Talk to me, hon," you whispered. 

His eyes closed and he drew in a shuddering breath, and his hands latched onto the railing on either side of you. He tipped his forehead to yours and you closed your eyes as well, running your thumb over his cheek lightly. 

Then he shoved back with a sigh, taking your wrists and pulling your hands from his face. "We weren't gonna make it out of there, Ace," he whispered, turning away from you. 

His shoulders hunched and he locked his hands around the railing again, and you wanted to hold onto him desperately. But you knew better, you knew that look from the Lullaby, from him showing up at your apartment door in the middle of the night. You kept your hands loose in your lap and just listened. 

"I'd fucked up my ankle. We'd been runnin'- we'd been runnin' so damn long, girl. Felt like hours. Don't know if it was or not, but-" he broke off and shrugged, shifting his weight. He shook his head and continued. "Down to our last rounds. We didn't have shit left, and I knew- I knew we weren't gettin' out of there. I knew it. We were done, Slugger, done." 

Your mouth went dry and your heart started to pound, fresh terror rising from his words, from the devastation in his voice. You'd almost lost him. You'd almost lost him, and whatever had happened to get him here in front of you might turn him into someone you didn't recognize anyway.

"I made- I made a choice, see. I had to," he said, and his voice had gone as blank as his eyes, soft and deadly and making you think of things that moved in the dark, just beyond your vision. "I had to. There wasn't- Carl. Carl needed those supplies." 

He looked over at you and you didn't know what he saw in your expression, but his twisted into something you didn't recognize. He sneered, tossing his hands up and pointing at you. 

"I knew it. I knew you'd- that everyone would-" he broke off and took long steps away from you, and while his back was turned, he kept talking. "I killed him. I- I sacrificed him. I shot him in the knee, and I took the second pack from his back and Rick's gun from his hand and I left him there, YN. I left him screaming for the walkers to chew on, and I- I saved Carl's life." 

Tears rolled down your cheeks and you hand both hands pressed to your mouth, but- 

But you didn't care. It was Shane. Shane, who turned caught in the light streaming from the window and the darkness beating in from the night, at war with the oath he'd sworn to serve and protect and the fierce drive to take care of his family, his people, at all costs.

You'd known. You'd known the minute he started talking to Rick, because you'd heard enough truth and enough bullshit from Shane Walsh to recognize the bullshit when you saw it again. It was in the look in his eyes, the way he couldn't seem to focus. It was in his voice all along. You hadn't known exactly what had happened; exactly what awful thing had gone down, but it wasn't self-sacrifice on Otis' part.

You didn't care. You didn't care what he did to some stranger who'd shot a child, because you'd been sitting on the porch railing in the dark for hours just praying that he'd come back to you. Praying that he hadn't run off and left you with a world of confused feelings, a nightmare of walking dead, and a note that left you wondering if maybe he was just as confused as you were.

You'd promised a god you didn't think existed all sorts of things if Shane would just make it back to you. Not back to save Carl, but back to you.

"Shane," you whispered now, behind your hands, and he scoffed. 

He turned away from you, running a hand over his newly-shaved head like he'd have run it through his hair. "Don't. I know. I know what I am, Slugger; what I've always been. I'm a fuckin' monster. I'm the living, breathing embodiment of the violence you've been around your whole damn life, aren't I? Shit, I'm just a loaded gun and that's all I've ever been- point me in the right direction and pull the damn trigger. It's fine. Go on and get inside." 

"Shane, I'm not-" you slid off the railing and headed toward him, looking for a way to tell him you didn't actually care. But how the hell do you just up and say that without him thinking you were the monster here? Jesus fucking Christ. 

"Don't, damn it," he snarled. "Don't say I'm wrong 'cause we both know I'm not. Worse than your daddy, worse than that bastard who took a hand to you- I fuckin' killed a man, Ace. So don't tell me I'm not-"

Shane spun around when you grabbed his shoulder ready to tell him the hell off for implying he was anything like Mal or Will. He knocked your hand aside forcefully enough that you winced, taking a panicked half-step back before thought overcame instinct.

You started cursing up a storm in your head as Shane gave that harsh, empty laugh, nodded once, and backed slowly away from you, eyes going wide and carefully, painfully blank as he shook his head. 

"Shane-" You took half a step forward, but he ran a hand over his hair as he turned and walked away. "Shane!" 

He didn't stop, didn't look back, and you leaned against the railing and sighed. Fucking hell. 

"Now can I kill him, little sister?" Merle snarled, towering over you. 

You blinked groggily, trying to figure out where the fuck you were, and- 

"Ow," you said mildly. That didn't come close to expressing how you felt, but you had a feeling screaming was only going to make things worse. "Where am I?" 

"Grady Memorial," Daryl said, his voice hard and coming from just out of sight. 

You turned your head slowly, afraid if you did it quickly your head would fucking explode. Daryl was sprawled over a chair, all brooding anxiety as he chewed on a nail and glared at the beeping machines beside your head. You refocused on Merle, standing at the foot of the bed and looking ready to go kill someone right exactly now. 

"Follow up question," you said slowly. "How did I get here? And why does everything hurt?" 

Merle snorted and turned away, a flash of guilt mixing with the rage in his eyes. 

"How much ya remember?" Daryl asked quietly. 

You closed your eyes, exhausted, and tried to think. "I don't- Um. I was home, Merle hadn't gotten there yet, and I heard something- Oh my God." 

The monitor beside you started going crazy as your heart rate spiked, your eyes snapping open. "Mal. Mal was- shit." 

"Easy, easy," Daryl muttered, grabbing your hand as you reached for the IV in your arm to rip it out and run. "He's gone. He was gone before we got there." 

"Yeah, an' I'll come back to my question, baby sister- can I kill him now?" Merle snarled. 

You held on tight to Daryl's fingers, snatches of the night before flashing in and out of your mind in a discordant, jarring montage. 

Mal had made a copy of your key. Mal was high as a fucking kite, pleading with you to drop the charges and take him back. Mal saying he'd scored the drugs off a dealer in Merle's gang, rambling on about how hard it was to be a rock star and have to be 'on' all the time and why didn't you just get it? Why couldn't you just support him?

You grabbing your phone and dialing Shane's number automatically under the table as your hands shook and you tried to talk Mal down. But every word just seemed to make it worse, and you jumped when he threw your airbrush kit into the drywall slab you'd been about to work on. Your phone fell from your hands and clattered on the floor, and you watched it in slow motion. 

Mal's face contorting into screaming, pure promised violence when he scooped it up and saw Shane's contact open. The cell phone winging at your head, the fist following it you hadn't been able to duck. 

After that it was just- just pain and fear and then nothing. 

You focused on Daryl's hand in yours and blinked it all away. "How'd I- he could have killed me." 

"He almost fuckin' did!" Merle exploded. "Then his lil bitch ass ran when one'a ya neighbors called the cops and came over with a fuckin' bat. Now, for the love of fuckin' shit, Ace, can I kill him?" 

You tried to sit up but pain had some creative words exploding out of you as you saw stars and the monitors went nuts. You lay back, panting, and looked wildly at Daryl. "Did he fuckin' stab me or something?" 

Daryl nodded. "With goddamn glass from ya coffee table." 

You looked back at Merle's thundercloud face, knowing he was completely serious about the killing thing. "Yeah. If you find him? You can kill him." 

Merle pulled his phone from his pocket, pressed some buttons, and headed out the door with it to his ear. 

Daryl glanced at you, eyebrows raised. "Think that's smart, sis? He'll set a bounty on his head." 

"I know," you said, closing your eyes again. "I'm fine with it." 

Daryl snorted. "Yeah, you're our sister still, ain't ya?" 

You flipped him off as you started to fall asleep.

Shane wouldn't come anywhere near you, even the next morning. You tried to approach him and have a conversation, several times, but he'd find some reason to limp away or not be alone with you the minute he saw you coming. 

Hell, he wouldn't even look you in the eyes. 

You were curled on the railing, watching him help Hershel's people collect rocks for Otis' grave. It was the latest in his bids to get as far away from you as possible, and you wanted to stalk out there and yell at him for being a raging dumbass because he needed to take care of that ankle, damn it. 

You stayed where you were and dashed tears off your cheeks instead. The way he looked at you when he bothered to do so- 

It was like Lori had looked at him for so long, and it fucking hurt, goddamn it. 

The roar of engines split the quiet and you let out a long sigh of relief as the rest of your people arrived in a mini caravan. You hoped against all hope that Sophia would come running out of the RV or Carol's Cherokee, but that wasn't the case. 

Daryl swung off the bike and came your way as Rick and Lori stepped out on the porch to greet everyone. His eyes lingered on you as you tried to pull yourself together, but you knew he could see right through the smile you painted on. After being reassured that Carl would be ok, Daryl came down the porch to where you were, eyes narrowing on you. 

"Hey. What's wrong?" he asked, and you tipped your head back against the pillar you leaned on and sighed. 

You shrugged and glanced across the field to where Shane was limping his way back toward the house with Hershel's people, then back over to Daryl. Daryl crossed his arms and scowled at Shane as you gestured vaguely. 

"How do you tell someone you don't give a shit that they killed a man, because it meant they stayed alive instead?" you asked bluntly.


	30. Lie #30: "That's What He Said" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentions of past domestic violence/abuse

She'd fucking flinched. He'd slapped her hand aside when she reached for him and she'd jerked back half a step, and Shane didn't even fucking blame her. Because that's the kind of man Shane was turning out to be; the kind who sacrificed people so he could stay alive, who beat the shit out of others, who made Ace flinch. 

Looking at it, he'd only change one of those. 

She'd fucking winced and ducked back from him. He'd just told her he'd killed a man, and then he'd knocked her hand aside and- 

He shuffled along in his dead man's clothes and tried not to see the way Daryl fucking Dixon looked at him like he wanted to send one of the crossbow bolts right through Shane's forehead. Ace leaned against her brother's shoulder, Daryl's arm around her, and Shane felt a sudden, irrational surge of jealous rage. 

He was the one Ace cried on, goddamn it. And he knew she was crying, from the way she held her shoulders when she pushed away from Daryl and dashed a hand over her eyes. Shane could picture the way she'd draw in a breath and paint that smile on her lips, the fake as hell one that looked so goddamn real it'd fooled him more times than he probably even knew. But not anymore. 

Shane forced his eyes away as Daryl said something to Ace and she reached up and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. 

They had a funeral without a body. There wasn't a body, since Shane had left him being eaten alive back in a high school parking lot with a bullet in his knee and chunk of Shane's hair in his hand. 

The old man who'd saved Carl's life waxed on about God and thankfulness and Otis being in peace, and Shane knew that was a whole heaping assload of bullshit. There wasn't anything peaceful about going out the way Otis had gone out, and- 

Shane's thoughts swirled to a halt when Hershel asked him to speak for Otis, and Shane didn't know what to do. He tried to refuse, because him speaking for the man he killed was just enough utter blasphemy for a solid atheist like Shane to get worried. But the man's wife wouldn't let the idea go, and Shane didn't know how to gracefully shoot down a crying widow. 

So he opened his mouth, spewed some bullshit, and hoped it'd be enough for everyone. "We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limpin'. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up."

Shane stared at nothing and very deliberately didn't look at Slugger, trying to find some way to make the man out to be the hero he could have been, not the sacrifice Shane had made him. "'We've got to save the boy.' See that's what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead. 'Run', he said. 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you.'" 

Otis had fought like a man who thought there was still a chance, despite the bullet in his knee and the dead on his heels, trying to keep that fucking backpack and damn Carl as well as Shane. 'Course the only person who needed to know that was Shane himself. He'd almost succeeded in taking Shane out with him, but Shane had been determined. In that moment he'd had one thought on his mind and that was fucking survival, and Shane would have to find a way to live with that. 

"And when I looked back...." Shane trailed off and started limping his way to the damn pile of rocks. 

He had looked back once while Otis was screaming. He'd looked over his shoulder to make sure the walkers were distracted and Shane could get away. 

"If not for Otis," he said, taking up a small rock, "I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl too. If ever a death had meaning, it was his." 

And that was God's own truth, twisted as fuck though it might be. 

Ace could take her judgement and her portrayal of him as a monster in the shadows, and shove it.

Shane had never been so grateful for his own fucking clothes in his life, even if when he'd opened his pack in the RV he'd found the shirt Ace had been wearing the night before, neatly folded on top. 

Shane left it there and gathered with Rick, Andrea, Ace, Daryl, Hershel, and Maggie around the hood of a truck to keep searching for Sophia. He ignored the way both Dixons stood, Ace resting her chin on Daryl's shoulder in the casual physical affection she reserved for a chosen few. Hell, until the world ended and Shane had met her brothers, the only person he'd ever seen her hold onto or lean against or whatever had been him or Malcolm fucking Hall. 

Maggie spread a county survey map out and weighed the corners, and Rick nodded. "This is perfect. We can finally get this thing organized." 

Three days the little girl had been missing, and there was a kernel of black poison in Shane's gut that said they weren't going to find her. But Rick needed them to, and Carol needed them to, and hell- Shane needed to feel like a goddamn hero again just for a second. 

Maybe Slugger was right; he did have a fucking complex. 

"We'll grid the whole area; start searching in teams," Rick went on with that perfect earnest sincerity Shane sometimes hated. 

"Not you. Not today," Hershel informed him. "You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out." 

Shane was nodding in agreement- old man was right; Rick needed to stick close- when Hershel turned to him next. 

"And you- push that ankle, you'll be laid up for a month. No good to anybody." 

"Guess it's just me," Daryl said. "I'm gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there." 

"Excuse you," Ace put in mildly. 

Daryl rolled his eyes and shot her a look. "I ain't takin' ya out there if ya won't carry a damn gun." 

Ace grimaced and Daryl shrugged. "There ya go. You're stayin' put." 

"Just more macho sexist bullshit," she muttered under her breath and Daryl shot her that amused half-smile. She rolled her eyes but didn't protest. 

"Dixon's right, we can't have our people wanderin' around out there with just knives. Need the gun training we've been promising them," Shane put in, and Andrea perked up at his side. 

"I'd prefer you not carrying guns on my property," Hershel said, his face looking like someone had shoved a stick real far up his ass. "We've managed so far without turning this into an armed camp." 

Shane scoffed. "All due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here... " He trailed off with a shake of his head. 

Rick, fucking boy scout, disagreed with Shane. Shane wondered sometimes how the hell the two of them had grown up together and turned out such utter opposites of each other, but when Rick slapped the Python onto the hood of the car, Shane didn't see he had much choice in the matter. He slapped his Glock down onto the hood beside it and tried not to feel Ace's eyes linger on him. 

There was one thing needed to be said, and it seemed no one was going to say it. So he figured why the hell not, he damn well would. Wasn't like they weren't going to know he was a monster when shit started coming out. And that was the thing about secrets, wasn't it? They always came out.

"I hate to be the one to bring it up, but somebody's got to. What happens if we find her and she's been bit? I think we need to be real clear on how we handle that."

Rick's face fell and Shane hated that he'd put that image in Rick's mind, but shit happened, man. Shit like Otis. 

"You do what has to be done," Rick said softly. 

"And her mother? What do you tell her?" Maggie demanded, looking shocked. 

It was Ace who scoffed and answered, something off in her voice besides the cold casualness of it. "The truth."

Shane headed into the RV to grab the bag of guns, so he could do inventory and make sure everything was clean and accounted for. Since it was just his lucky day, apparently, Lori was waiting for him as he limped his way out.

"I hear he woke up," Shane said, nodding in the direction of the house. 

Lori smiled. "He's in and out, but yeah. He'll be alright."

That was what mattered, Shane told himself, and the relief washing through him backed him up. That was what it had all been for, and wrecking the last of his relationships with his little family was worth it for that.

Ace laughed at something Glenn said as she set up her and Daryl's tent, and Shane sighed. Yeah, worth it. But barely. 

Lori started to duck into the RV and Shane turned. "Did you mean it?" 

"What?" she asked, looking back at him awkwardly. 

Shane sighed. "In Carl's room, when Hershel'd finished the surgery. You said you didn't want me to go. Did you mean it? Look, it ain't gonna change anything either way, but I need to know. If not, just say so." 

"I meant it," Lori said softly. "I shouldn't have asked you to leave in the first place." 

Shane nodded once and walked off. That was something, he guessed. 

Shane had been at the damn table all of two seconds when Andrea came storming over all bent out of shape about giving up their guns. Shane was pissed and in enough pain that he snapped back at her- cause he didn't fucking recall being asked about the idea at all- and told her to lay down her weapon. He was ready for a fight and she was a handy target, wasn't it just her lucky day?

She shot him a look he fucking recognized, but it was so wildly out of context it took him a minute to process. But shit, she wanted a good flirt, Shane was fine with that too. It was almost as good as fight, in his opinion. 

"Look, I have to strip and clean 'em anyway. You still want to learn?" he asked archly, and she took a seat. 

Shane's eyes strayed to where Ace helped Carol string a line for laundry, the shirt she'd literally ripped open all the way down the sides and knotted back together at her hips flaring slightly in the breeze. He thought about his hands on her hips, his lips on her ribs, right there below that fucking lacy thing she wore. 

Then he thought of bruised knuckles and blood on his hands and how she'd jerked away from him three times- three times- and he focused back on Andrea's lingering smile. 

Shane leaned back against the wall and grimaced down at the far end of the bar. Ace leaned close to the guitarist bastard she was on again off again with all the time, apparently on again- or going to be by night's end. Asshole was showering her with attention between each set, coming over and flirting his head off with her, announcing songs that were written for her, all that shit. 

Shane watched it all with some serious skepticism. This was the asshole who'd dumped her for some fucking groupie only a couple months back, and Shane's advice then had been the same as it was now: don't take him back. Ace said he just lived off the drama, used it to fuel his songs, but Shane didn't care. 

Ace didn't deserve to be treated like that, damn it. Hell, no woman did. 

Shane was a damn dog sometimes and he knew it. But he sure as shit was upfront with women. Like Julie, the cute waitress who'd slipped him her number a couple weeks ago. Shane had thought it over and used it, and made sure to tell her he wasn't looking for serious. Since she had a kid, he knew that was important to go on and lay out there for her. 

She'd sent back one of those dumbass laughing emojis- man, he hated those things- and asked why he thought she might be. He'd appreciated the hell out of that response, and they'd been on one date already that had gone well. It hadn't lead to anything because the kid had an emergency and they'd had to cut things short, but that was fine. Shane had enjoyed her company and wouldn't mind giving it another go. 

But this guy- 

Shane shook his head and took a sip from the draft she'd plopped in front of him with a wink and a 'try this'. This bastard just struck him as manipulative. 

She set one knee on the worktop behind the bar and boosted up to lean over it to him after one of the other guys in the bastard's band- Grave Mistakes? no, Grave Behavior- rapped one of the drums impatiently and yelled 'Malcolm!' He waved them off and slid his hand along her cheek, drawing her in a for a sultry kiss that had her blushing and people all around cheering. 

Shane just noticed he hadn't even tried to lean across the bar any, making her do all the damn work to come to him. 

She came laughing down the bar, collecting empties and taking orders for refills. Some of them she could do right then and did, others Shane knew she'd come punch into the computer beside him and then go mix. By the time she made it to him the blush had faded. 

"Hey, Dickhead. Like that draft?" she asked as she started punching buttons rapidly.

"Yeah, it's great. What the hell is it?" he asked, leaning toward her to be heard as Mal started blasting into a hard-punching cover of the Stones' "Dancing With Mr. D' that made Shane want to inform him that he had a stick too far up his ass to be Richards and not enough sex appeal to be Jagger. 

"It's a local stout. I pegged you for the type to order one, take one sip, and make the face," she said with a grin. 

"What face?" he asked, intrigued and wondering if he should be insulted. 

She laughed again. "Watch this." 

Shane did, stifling laughter as she filled what she'd rolled her eyes and called a 'Valhalla mug' and took it to a delighted looking man who, ok, yeah. Shane could see the resemblance, at least on the surface. Gym nut by the bulk, obviously out looking for a date, same fitted black t shirt and open button up combo Shane himself was wearing, and a thick chain around his neck with a wolf's howling profile on it. 

Shit, Shane needed to rethink his wardrobe if this was the type he was getting compared with. He decided he should be insulted, but Ace shot him an amused look as she passed the mug over. 

He took a sip, and made a face. It was an asshole face, and Ace locked eyes with Shane and made her way back down the bar with a perfectly blank expression. She started collecting bottles along the way, and lined up three shot glasses, a martini glass, and a water glass in front of Shane. 

"That face," was all she said, and Shane was howling.


	31. Lie #31: "I Will Haul Your Ass Into That House And Lock You In A Room First" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of past murder  
mentions of past domestic violence/abuse  
mentions of past rape/non con/dub con  
smuttiness

Shane stared down into the well at the bloated dead guy. 

"Huh," Ace said mildly. "That's not good, is it?" 

Shane appreciated her use of understatement, but they needed solutions right now, not sarcasm. T Dog wanted to shoot it but that would contaminate the water, something they needed to avoid. Maggie watched them all with hostile eyes, and finally they decided to lower a ham down and try to hook the dead bastard with a rope and pull him out. 

Problem being, the fucker wasn't all that interested in the ham. 

Ace was the one who pointed out the obvious. "Canned ham doesn't have a pulse. We need live bait." 

Everyone looked at each other in dismay, realizing she was right. Shane ran a hand over his face and held a drawn-out debate with himself over whether or not this particular well was worth it, but the answer was yes. It was the closest one to the house not being already heavily drawn on. The ones further out meant more of a hike and more of a risk of walkers. Goddamn it. 

"So... Well, I guess I'll do it," Ace said into the appalled silence and Shane's eyes snapped up to her. 

"The hell you will," he managed to get out around the sudden, irrational fear that she was just going to throw herself in head first with no plan.

"Why the hell not? I don't see anyone else jumping to volunteer!" she protested. 

That might very well have been true, but it sure as hell didn't mean she was going down there. Shane glared at her while the others in their group shifted and looked away uncomfortably. Maggie watched with a small smirk on her lips that made Shane want to deny he and Ace were a couple- not that it seemed to do any good, but whatever. "Listen to me, Slugger, you are not going down there and that is final. So help me, I will haul your ass into that house and lock you in a room first, you hear me?" 

"That's a mistake," Glenn muttered to Dale, who shushed him frantically as Ace's eyes narrowed and her back went ramrod straight. 

"You and what ankle, Dickhead?" she snapped at Shane. "You couldn't fucking catch me if you tried." 

Shane opened his mouth to fire something back, but she wasn't done. 

"Fine. You don't want my help, that's just fucking fine." She tossed her hands up and spun on her heel, stalking off with her middle finger up in the air. "You guys figure it out then. Peace." 

Shane watched her go and wondered why her fucking attitude made him want to smile.

They sent Glenn down instead. It almost worked. After the bloated bastard ripped in fucking half, spilling innards and blood sludge and rotted meat back down into the well, Shane walked away from the chagrined faces without a word, settling his hat firmly on his head.

He headed for the treeline, needing to get away from everyone before he said or did something stupid. He kept hearing Otis screaming, kept seeing Ace's wide, terrified eyes as he told her what he'd done. He kept thinking about Ed's face under his fist, about that moment of satisfaction when Ed blubbered that he understood Shane was deathly serious about killing him if he fucked up again. 

Shane lived for goddamn violence, and despite the way Otis and Ace were haunting his every step, he was ready to engage in some more of it, right here and now. 

He didn't know what his plan was, especially since he'd left his gun in the bag with all the rest in the RV, but he leaned against the crumbling old chimney just outside the tree line and considered finding a walker to rip to shreds with his bare hands. That'd be good. That'd help with the churning, swirling, red-tinged storm in his mind. 

"Look, you're a sexist bastard, Walsh, and I'm pissed at you about some things, but I didn't think you were enough of a damn fool to hear 'don't mess up your ankle' and think 'why don't I go for an unarmed walk in the dead-infested woods'." 

Shane closed his eyes and tried to breathe, tried to settle himself before he turned to face Ace's pissed-off voice. He had to be in control if he was going to be around her, because he could not, would not, scare her again. He wouldn't. He turned slowly and she was glaring at him, arms crossed and eyes flashing. 

"Hey. Why are you avoiding me, you asshole?" she snapped before he could even open his mouth. 

For some reason, every thought he had flew right out of his head and he started yelling right away. 

"Because you think I'm dangerous, Ace!" he shot at her, the swirling storm spilling out in the harshness of his voice. "And you're right. I know you've dealt with enough people like me in your life; I'm not going to make you live in fear of my every fuckin' move!" 

She scoffed. That was it, just a single dismissive huff of air and curl of her lip. 

Shane saw that red rage flicker on the edges of his vision and his voice went cold and quiet. "Don't. I know how you see me. I've watched you flinch back from me, sweetheart, and I've seen how you draw me." 

Her pissed look faded into complete confusion. "How I draw-? Shane, what the fuck are you talking about?" 

He gestured toward the camp, opening his mouth to answer, but she shoved a hand through her hair and talked over him. 

"You know what, actually, I don't care. It doesn't matter what you're talking about, because you couldn't fucking be more wrong. Why the hell won't you listen to me for two damn minutes? I'm not afraid of you, Shane!" 

"Really?" Shane sneered the word out as some asshole took over his body and he stalked toward her. "You're not?" 

He watched her eyes widen slightly and she bit unconsciously at her lip as he came toward her. He snorted and rolled his eyes, stopping a couple steps away. "Yeah. That's what I thought." 

"What?" she asked, annoyed. "What do you think you see in me right now?" 

He paused, something about her tone cracking through the anger. He studied her eyes, her raised chin, the flush in her cheeks. She wasn't backing down any, and Shane realized it wasn't the false bravado he'd seen from her when she flinched away from him in the camp. It was real. 

When he didn't respond, she kept talking, hand waving in righteous indignation. "You don't get it, do you? I don't care, Shane. I don't care what you did." 

"How the hell can you say that? How the hell can you stand there and say you don't care that I beat the shit out of Ed or that I- I sacrificed Otis?" he snapped back, staring into her face and at the stubborn set of her jaw. 

"Because you're here! You came back to me!"

She half-yelled it back to him and he paused, wondering what exactly she meant by that. Both hands went into her hair as she closed her eyes and let out a long, frustrated groan. 

"Shane, come on. What do I have if you're gone? I have a brother I love but sometimes feel like I barely know. That's it. I don't have friends or family or anything- just you and Daryl. So- so I don't care what it takes. I don't care if you're a loaded fucking gun; just pull the damn trigger and get your ass back here," she muttered. 

Shane stared at her, the storm in his mind settling some with the sheer confusion of what she was saying. He was still trying to figure out how the hell to respond to that when she opened her eyes and gave him a wry smile. 

"Besides, a little violence certainly never bothered me, did it?" 

Shane's brain shut down completely into angry static and his hands shook as he clenched them into fists at his side. He turned away, taking a long step back from her. She looked confused, reaching a hand out as she closed the distance right on his heels. 

He knew she was trying to lighten the mood. He knew it. It didn't work. It pissed him off and tripped his asshole switch again, and in two seconds he'd rounded on her, getting up in her face as she blinked and froze. 

A little violence didn't bother her, he thought sharply, bitterly. A little violence- like that asshole she hadn't been able to quit until he put her in the hospital; like the way she'd punched the guy harassing her in the face the first time he'd ever seen her; like the way she plucked his gun from his holster and started nailing walkers in the head; like blood dripping off knuckles in exquisite detail and Shane standing over the swollen, destroyed mass of Ed's face. 

Shit, he thought when she licked her lips and swallowed hard, eyes fixed on his where he loomed over her. So that's how it was. Goddamn it, Shane was just angry and hungry and twisted enough that he was fucking fine with it. She wanted him to be a little bit of a monster for her, he could do that.

"What do you want from me, Slugger?" he asked harshly, glaring at her. "You want me to back you up, trap you? Make you feel out of control?" 

He moved without warning, grabbing her shoulders and shoving her back against the tree. He got up in her space and she met his eyes, quirking one eyebrow at him with an amused look. For some reason that irritated him even more, like she thought he was being particularly dense.

"Want me to get a little rough, a little violent? That's how you see me, isn't it? How all of you see me," he added bitterly. He slid one hand over her skin, spanning her neck, and squeezed lightly- barely enough to register for her, certainly not enough to threaten her or cause any pain. 

No matter what, this was Ace. No matter what she thought or how angry Shane was or what she wanted, Shane would be a dead man before he actually hurt this woman.

"That what you want from me?" he whispered, staring at her parted lips.

She didn't move except to wrap her hand around his, and he expected her to rip it away from him, to tell him off for being a complete bastard. He deserved it, he knew, and braced himself to be left alone again. He braced himself for her to tell him they were done again, and this time Shane might even be willing to accept it as earned. 

"No," she said simply. "To both of those. That's not remotely what I want. I've got more than enough violence in my life, thank you. And it's certainly not what I think of you." 

He scoffed, taken off guard as she moved his hand from her throat, sliding it to rest flat against her sternum instead. Shane swallowed hard, not meeting her eyes, as she continued in that same steady voice.

"You've got violence in you, sure," she said with a shrug, and her fingers moved lightly over his scraped knuckles before she touched his cheek, leaving his hand pressed to her racing heart. "But you've never directed it at me, and I don't believe you ever would. What I want?" 

Her voice dropped to a whisper as Shane's fingers ghosted over her collarbone, stroking lightly up the side of her neck. Her head fell back and to the side, eyes fluttering closed as she stretched her neck in invitation, and Shane ducked in to follow his fingers with his lips, aching to taste that racing pulse on his tongue. 

What the hell was she doing to him? Two seconds ago he'd been ready to fight a walker with his bare hands, convinced everyone here fucking hated him- including Ace. Now all he wanted was her.

"What I want- what I want is for you to fuck me 'till my legs won't work," she finished in a matter of fact tone, and Shane jerked back to stare at her blankly for a moment. 

Her eyes danced with open glee as his reaction. Shane couldn't believe what he'd just heard, but he could see she meant every goddamn word, and- 

Shane leaned his forehead against her shoulder and laughed until his sides ached. Jesus, his Slugger. Her fingers slid lightly over his head and down the back of his neck, making him shiver as she laughed with him. When he caught his breath again, he shook his head and looked at her.

She was so damn pretty, he thought. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes danced, her back still pressed up against the tree he'd shoved her into like an asshole. Yet she didn't look pissed or worried or scared, she looked sly and aroused and confident, meeting his eyes and quirking one eyebrow up at him in challenge. 'Catch me if you can, Dickhead,' her expression said. 

"That right?" he asked, hand still resting on the side of her throat. He ran one finger down her neck just for the sheer joy of watching her breath hitch and her eyes go dark. "That's what you want, is it? Thought you didn't like sex that much, Ace."

"I already stroked your goddamn ego enough, asshole; you know you're different. Besides, that is part of the whole friends with benefits package, right?" she added with a wink. "The benefits part?" 

He laughed again and kissed her hard. Her hands slid down his back as she gave as good as she got, digging into his ass to pull him closer to her. 

"Shit. Fine. But not here," he said, glancing around as he broke away from her reluctantly. 

"Why not?" she complained when he tugged her off the tree. "Tree's fine. Ground's fine. Anywhere's fine." 

He glanced at her and rolled his eyes. "Had my fill of fuckin' in the bushes, Slugger, and besides- don't want you all exposed if anyone comes around." 

Her eyes softened and she smiled at him, and Shane was reminded of how goddamn little basic human decency and consideration this woman had been shown in her life. 

"Then where?" she asked. 

That gave him pause, even as he strolled along through the trees with her hand in his.

"Could go for my tent, but you can't keep quiet to save your damn life," he teased. 

"Fuck you, Shane." Her voice was bitchily pleasant and Shane glanced at her from the corner of his eye to find her smiling down at the ground as she walked. 

"Thought that was the plan all along. Shit, I've got an idea," he said as they came into camp and his eyes narrowed. "Come on."

She laughed as he pulled her along, half-running now, and he grinned at her. 

He opened the door to the Hyundai and gestured her in, and she looked both amused and concerned but didn't ask any questions. He started the car and gestured her into her seat belt despite her eye roll and pointed stare, and he didn't say a word. He was enjoying letting her stew and seeing how long it'd take before she was asking him six hundred questions in that exasperated tone. They'd barely pulled forward to head up the gravel road when Rick jogged over, waving them down and gesturing for Shane to lower the window. 

"Everything ok?" Rick asked, leaning in and giving him a concerned look. 

Shane nodded and hoped he looked innocent enough. "Yeah, man, we're just gonna go check the supplies we left for Sophia. See if she's circled around." 

Rick frowned. "You sure that's a good idea?" 

And Ace, his Ace, leaned across Shane, eyes wide and urgent and pleading. "Please, Rick? Daryl's out there alone, Carl's healing, Sophia's still missing- I'm so worried. I need a distraction." 

Shane bit the inside of his cheek to keep from muttering that he was planning on distracting her, alright.

Rick sighed, squinting out into the trees, and nodded. "Ok. Be careful, and don't be gone too long."

"Thanks, Rick," she said with that perfect quiet sincerity, and Shane nodded. 

"We will, brother," he promised, and started driving when Rick walked off. 

Slugger sat back in the seat, curling her legs up with a self-satisfied smirk, and Shane shook his head and glanced at her. "Too damn good at that, girl." 

"What?" she asked. "Lying my ass off? Indeed I am. I learned it young. Are we really going to check the supplies?" 

"Sure," Shane said easily, letting the subject drop. Shit, he should probably push at that a little harder, but they both needed this, he decided as he turned off the road and pulled into the trees. "After. Get in the back."

She laughed and obliged, but Shane could see the faint blush on her cheeks as she started to get less sure of herself. He reached over and brushed her hair behind her ear after he closed the door and they were facing each other with the beginnings of awkwardness hanging in the air. 

"We can go now, you know," he told her gently. "I ain't gonna be mad. You made your point, Ace- we're friends, and you're not afraid of me. Also I was an asshole." 

She snorted and whipped her ripped-up tank over her head. "You don't even know what my point was, Dickhead. But you were an asshole."

Shane laughed and grabbed at her hands, easing her to lean back against the window and brushing his lips lightly over hers- once, twice, a third time just because it made her close her eyes and let out a little contented sigh. "I'll take that as a no to leaving now," he said. 

"That's a 'hell no'," she shot back, reaching for the button on her jeans and shoving her hips up so she could shimmy them down.

"Slow down, Slugger," he commanded, grabbing her hands again. He bent and ran his tongue over the stone in her navel and she shivered. "That's my damn job." 

"Yeah? Why's that?" she asked, her hand gliding over his shoulder as he slid his lips up her body. 

"'Cause it is, that's why," he said with a shrug. 

"Mmm," she hummed when he finally got his mouth on that pulse, biting down gently on her neck, and her hands slid to tug at his shirt. "So, what's my job? Do I get to take yours off?" 

He chuckled, pulling back to smirk at her. "If you want, Ace. 'Course I don't mind doin' all the work if that's what you want," he added, sliding back down to bite lightly at her ribs. 

He felt the shift, felt her go from hands digging into his shoulders and already writhing under his touch to tense and still, and he looked up at her. "You ok?"

She flashed him that smile he couldn't believe he hadn't realized was fake as all hell for so long. "Of course. That feels good; don't stop." 

Shane sat up immediately, running a hand over his shaved head as anger curled like lead in his stomach again. "Don't do that," he snapped at her. 

She straightened as well, her eyes going guarded and shoulders tight. "Do what?" 

"We talked about this. You don't like something; you're not into something? You tell me. Don't have to tell me why, Ace, but you tell me. That shit where you cover it up with a smile and pretend you're having fun? It ain't what I'm here for, and I know you too damn well for you to get away with it," he told her firmly. "I'm not touching you if you don't want me to, one hundred percent."

She blinked at him, going still like she was fucking surprised, and Shane got pissed all over again. Fucking Malcolm Hall, he thought. He better hope he was twice dead already and Shane never came across his corpse. 

"I- I'm sorry," she whispered, blinking against suddenly filling eyes. "It's nothing, really. Just- Mal used to say that when he was trying to convince me to have sex anyway when I wasn't interested. 'You don't have to do anything; I'll do all the work'. He, ah. Usually succeeded." She mumbled the last bit, so low he almost couldn't hear it. 

Shane's hand clenched into a fist and he seriously considered a drive to Atlanta. Instead, he swiped at where a single tear had spilled from her eye, brushing it away and caressing her cheek gently as she leaned into his palm. "I get it. We're done here, ok?" he told her, smiling so she'd know he wasn't mad.

She frowned at him, wrinkling up her nose like he'd just said the most confusing thing in the world. "What if I don't want to be?" 

He shot her a look, baffled and surprised. "I ain't-" 

"I said I wanted you to fuck me till my legs didn't work, and we aren't anywhere near that," she informed him. Then she shrugged. "I just want to fuck you back until yours don't work either." 

Before he could blink, she'd pulled that damn lacy bralette thing over her head and Shane's pulse was thundering in his ears as she reached for his shirt. He groaned when she got it off him and leaned in, kissing him hard and hungry as all that warm skin slid over his. He locked his arms around her and eased her back against the window again, and her hands ran over his head and down to dig into his shoulders when he scraped his teeth lightly down the side of her breast. 

Jesus, he thought as she trembled and his name slid from her in that breathless half-laughing, half-shocked tone. It was so goddamn easy to have her writhing under him. Give the woman two seconds of attention and she was putty in his hands, both like this and just in life, and it pissed him off all the more to think he was the only one who bothered to do so. 

But if he thought about that too hard, they wouldn't be going any further than this, and he wanted to watch her fall apart as she said his name over and over, like she had at the CDC. Damn woman would joke that she wasn't going to stroke his ego when they were done, but she didn't fucking need to. 

Not when she said his name like she was saying it now, not when her fingers tangled into his and her lips seared into his skin and her legs locked around him urgently.

Shane didn't need his ego fucking stroked; he didn't need anyone to tell him he was good. Hell, he didn't need Rick and Lori to treat him like family again; he didn't need anyone to understand his actions; he didn't need the approval of anybody else in this whole goddamn group. 

He just needed her.


	32. Lie #32: "I Fucked Up" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of past pregnancy loss and infertility  
mentions of past child abuse/neglect

In the back of a Hyundai, with his hands on your skin and lips on yours, you came to the completely earth shattering realization that you were head over heels in love with Shane Walsh. 

You had exactly zero ideas what to do with this information, and considering the fact that he was well on his way to doing what you'd asked and fucking you until your legs didn't work, you didn't really have a chance to actually process it until later. Until you were back in the front seat, trying vainly to get your hair to look like you hadn't just been screwing enthusiastically in the backseat and wondering if the hickeys and scratches you already knew were visible made it a futile effort anyway. 

Everyone was going to know you and Shane had been at it while you were gone, and you were only embarrassed about that because you'd told Rick you were checking on Sophia. Poor Carol was missing her daughter and you'd been fucking in the car and falling in love instead. 

Oh God oh God oh God, you were in love with your best friend. You were in love with Shane. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? 

Shane didn't do long term. Shane didn't do serious. Shane did three dates and a good screw and that was all. It wasn't that he was a jerk or anything, just that he wasn't looking to settle down. Friends with benefits was more in the way of commitment than you'd seen him extend to any woman he'd ever dated. And it was the fucking zombie apocalypse, for shit's sake, you weren't supposed be falling in love, you were supposed to be surviving, damn it. 

Shane reached over wordlessly and pulled your hand away from where you'd been gnawing the shit out of your thumbnail in a habit you'd picked up from Daryl. He kept your hand loose in his, resting against his leg as he pulled through the crash on the highway, easing the car up to where Daryl had told you they'd left food and a note. 

You both sighed, since it looked completely untouched. 

Shane hit the steering wheel lightly with his free hand, shaking his head. "She's been gone too long." 

You grimaced, your grip tightening on his hand. "I agree. We've got to find her." 

"No, I mean- shit. It's police work, Slugger. Seventy-two hours. We're already past that," he muttered, reached up to shift the hat he'd put back on his head. 

"What do you mean?" you asked, horror starting to churn in your stomach. You had a feeling you knew what he meant, but you couldn't- you couldn't think about that sweet girl being dead. Or being lost forever. 

Shane shifted the hat again, then ripped it off his head and put it in his lap. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and sighed. "Seventy-two hours to find a missing child. She's been gone three days already, Ace. It's only gonna get colder." 

"Jesus," you whispered, touching a shaking hand to your lips. "No, we can't- we can't think like that. We'll find her." 

Shane looked over at you, his eyes softening, and he lifted your joined hands to kiss your fingers lightly. You tried not to let that send you damn near into cardiac arrest, and you hoped to hell you weren't blushing like a fool. You didn't think either of those things had worked, but luckily he wasn't looking. 

He dropped your hand to put the car in reverse, looking over his shoulder to back up. 

You took advantage of his distraction to steal his hat from his lap, plopping it on your own head and flipping the visor down to grin at your reflection. "Hey, Walsh, look. Now I'm the police. Put your hands up!" 

Shane snorted. "Gonna steal all my shit or what? Might as well keep that fuckin' flannel, I know you're gonna nab it again eventually." 

"I miss my beanie, that's all. Don't tempt me; your shirts are so comfy. You wear them out in all the right places," you answered without thinking, looking at how the hat actually helped you look a little less like you'd just been thoroughly fucked while you were supposed to be searching for a missing girl. "Besides, I think it looks good on me." 

Shane shot you an amused look as he turned back onto Fairburn Road. "Looks a helluva lot better on you than it does on me." 

Damn it, that should not have warmed you down to your toes, but it did. Shit. You were going to have to do something about this stupid fucking crush you'd developed. That was all it was, you told yourself firmly as he reached over and tucked your hair behind your ear and adjusted the hat. Just a stupid fucking crush. 

You'd both lapsed back into silence when you pulled up to the Greene's farm, you staring out the window at the trees and fields going by. 

"Maybe your brother'll find her out there," Shane said as he parked the Hyundai. 

You looked over at him and offered a sad smile. "I hope so. If anyone can, it's him. He got lost in the woods once when we were kids. Took nine days for him to make it back to the cabin." 

Shane looked at you, his eyebrows going up. "Nine days?" 

"Mmhhmm," you said. "Will was off on a bender; Merle was in juvie. Will had dropped both of us off at the cabin and headed into town for supplies- booze. Didn't come back for two weeks. Daryl had headed into the woods to find us some game; since he was the one could fuckin' shoot the crossbow and the guns were locked up. I didn't know what to do- no phone, no car. Hell, we were only ten. Daryl came back, went straight in and made himself the biggest goddamn sandwich." 

You hopped out of the car, grinning as you told the story. "Of course, he'd been wiping his ass with poison oak the whole time. Dumbass." 

Shane had been looking pissed and shocked, but he cracked up as Rick and Andrea came toward you. Rick's eyes went downcast when he saw you were alone, though they lingered on Shane's hat still on your head. You looked down, not meeting his eyes. 

"Sorry, Rick," you muttered. "She hasn't been back." 

Rick sighed. "Well, it was a long shot. Andrea says she thinks she knows a good spot for gun practice. You want to go with her, check it out?" 

Shane glanced at you and you shook your head. "You go. I'm going to stick close. Wait for Daryl to get back. See if I can help out any," you told him. 

He nodded and jerked his head toward the Hyundai. "Come on then," he told Andrea. "Catch you later, Slugger." 

"Be careful, Dickhead," you called back. 

Rick glanced at you as they pulled out again, and your shoulders hunched. "What?" you muttered. 

"Nothin'," Rick said. He turned toward the house and you fell into step with him. His lips twitched as he leaned down a little to add in a teasing, knowing voice, "The hat looks good on you." 

You were pretty sure you turned the color of Hershel's fucking tomatoes. 

When Shane and Andrea got back, they were laughing as they climbed out of the Hyundai. Andrea gave Shane that look again, the one that suggested she knew what she wanted for breakfast and it was that tasty-looking meal right there. 

You sat up on the RV, taking a stint on watch, and your teeth ground together at the sight of it. 

She so much as thought about making a move on Shane, you'd- 

You cut yourself off, lifting a hand in a deliberately casual wave when Shane looked up and saw you. He waved back, and you lifted the binoculars to scan the trees for any sign of your brother returning. Nothing so far, you thought with a sigh. 

What the hell was this animosity you'd developed toward Andrea? You didn't get jealous. Not even with Malcolm and his never-ending brigade of groupies. 

And over Shane? No. That was ridiculous. Hell, you'd helped Shane plan dates. You'd been Shane's wingwoman on more than one occasion. You'd passed him notes and drinks from other women in the Lullaby who saw that you were friends and employed you as their go between. 

You were not jealous over Shane. 

There wasn't anything to be jealous of, you informed yourself sternly. You were just friends with benefits. If he wanted to be friends with benefits with someone else, that was cool. You'd never said you were only going to fuck each other. 

Suddenly Daryl's crack about the clap was a little less inappropriate. 

Shit, that was bitchy. You didn't really think Andrea might be a carrier for STDs. You were just- Shit. You were just jealous as hell and annoyed at the idea of Shane sleeping with someone besides you, even though you knew this was a casual thing. 

You sighed restlessly and stood to pace the length of the RV, eyes pointedly on the trees and not on the people still working to set up camp below. You didn't, for instance, check to see where Shane had put his tent. 

You didn't care, right? Right. It was just Shane. This was just a reaction to truly stupendous sex. You could count on literally one hand the number of times you'd had sex that good. 

Three. It was three, and they were all with Shane.

It was just a stupid crush, you told yourself again. But Shane chose that moment to walk into your sight, holding up a bottle of water and pointing at you in question. 

You lifted your own and made a face at him, rolling your eyes when he made one back. But fucking hell, you couldn't deny the way it made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside that he was checking up on you like that. You sipped your water obediently as he stared you down; he nodded and headed to see what else needed doing; and you figured you'd been well and truly fucked today in a couple of different ways. 

"Ace?" Shane called.

You hadn't heard your door open, but he'd texted twenty minutes ago and said he was stopping for pizza, so you weren't exactly surprised. 

"There better be pepperoni!" you yelled. "In the bathroom!" 

"You want the pepperoni in the bathroom?" his voice sounded amused as your refrigerator opened and closed. 

"No, you asshole. But you could bring me some wine," you shot back. 

He laughed and opened one of your cabinets. You glanced at your phone and slid off the side of the tub where you'd been perching and onto the floor. 

You were ass in the air, head under the faucet, when he spoke from just behind you. 

"Jesus, Slugger, there's got to be a better way," he said. 

"There is," you replied. "It's called a salon. Unfortunately, they're not open at midnight and I'm a little on the wrong side of broke right now." 

Shane grunted as you groped behind you for the towel you'd left on the toilet seat. He dropped it in your hand and you mumbled a thanks, wrapping your hair in the towel so you could stand up. You turned and took a full wine glass from him. 

"Thanks," you said and took a long drink. "I don't box dye often, but my roots were looking rough, damn it." 

Shane nodded and you could tell he had no idea what that meant. You stifled a grin, set the glass on the counter, and pulled out your blow dryer. You'd gone for purple this time, a deep smokey lavender you were already in love with, and Shane reached up to tug at your hair. 

"Why are you broke, girl? You just sold like five pieces and the bar was rocking last weekend. You sent me a picture of yourself laying on your bed surrounded by ones and fives. I genuinely thought you were trying to tell me you'd become a stripper." 

That had you laughing, because you'd deliberately aimed for that with the picture. It'd been a weird night, and you'd been in a crazy mood. 

You grimaced and ran your comb through your hair, working out the tangles before you made it worse with the blow dryer. "The bail money fund. Merle's and mine. Then Mal's van broke down, and-"

"Tell me you did not pay for that asshole's van, Ace. Come on," Shane interrupted. 

You glared at him, gesturing with the hairdryer as you turned it on. "Someone needed to." 

"He cheated on you again and you dumped him." 

You shrugged. "He's still my friend." 

Shane mumbled something you couldn't hear and you glared at him in the mirror. He held up his hands for peace and backed out of your bathroom, and you flipped your head over again to work on the underside of your hair. When you flipped back upright, he was leaning in the doorway holding the box of pizza open in front of you. 

You grinned, he grabbed a piece, and held it up for you to bite while you kept working on your hair. You alternated bites off the slice with him as he talked over your hair dryer about the weird ass shit he'd gotten into with Rick that day. 

Daryl finally came out of the woods sometime after you'd surrendered watch to Dale. You were just sort of wandering around camp when you saw him ducking into the RV and let out a breath of relief. 

You lingered outside the door as he talked to Carol, catching the end of their conversation and feeling your heart just fucking melt. Your brother had a soft spot for kids, and you knew it. He was getting too damn attached to finding her, and Shane's grim tone came back to mind when he'd said seventy two hours. 

Shit. 

"This rose, it started to bloom right where the mothers' tears fell," Daryl's voice came from inside the RV. 

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around your stomach and trying not to think too hard. You'd heard the story. Hell, Daryl had told you the story, one awful night in a hospital when you were both teenagers. 

You'd stared at him and asked why the fuck he thought you cared about some flower that was supposed to uplift mothers' spirits. After all, you weren't going to be a mom, were you? It wasn't like you gave a fuck about never having kids. You'd been seventeen and hadn't wanted that baby anyway; why would you care that it was gone and you would probably would never have any more? 

Yeah, you'd been a bitch about it. He'd forgiven you. 

"I'm not foolish enough to think there's any flowers bloomin' for my brother. My sister's the only one of us really worth a damn," he muttered. "Only one of us who did something worth mourning with her life."

Well that shit just wasn't true, you thought with a frown. Daryl was good, damn it. He could do anything he put his mind to, and he'd been stepping the hell up since the end of the world. You'd certainly mourn him, that's for sure. And you had a feeling a lot of people around the camp would as well.

Though he was right; there weren't going to be any flowers blooming for Merle any time soon. Merle had loved both of you in his own way, but he was still an asshole at best and a right bastard at worst. 

"But I believe this one? It bloomed for your little girl," he told Carol quietly. "She's gonna really like it in here." 

He came down the steps, saw you, and paused. 

"Hey," you whispered. "I take it you didn't find her." 

He shook his head, already heading away from the RV. "Naw. Found where she might have been holed up for awhile, but..." 

You fell into step with him and kissed his cheek. "I set up our tent over there. By the way, I'm sorry." 

"What the hell for?" he asked, scowling at you and looking embarrassed. You ignored him and leaned into his shoulder. 

"For being a bitch to you when you told me the story of the Cherokee rose," you told him with a soft smile. 

He blinked down at you and looked away. "Yeah, well. Ya were hurtin'. It's all good." 

"Hey, Daryl," you said after a minute of silence. 

"Mmm?" he grunted at you, picking at his thumbnail. 

That made you think of Shane holding your hand and kissing your fingers, and- 

"I fucked up," you told him with a sigh. 

He glanced at you and raised his eyebrows, clearly expecting you to expand on that concept a little bit. You grimaced and pulled Shane's hat off your head so you could run a hand through your hair before settling it back down. Daryl snorted. 

"Hangin' out with Shane too damn much, sis," he muttered. 

"Yeah, I am," you agreed. His expression went to incredulous at that. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and just blurted it out in a rush. "I think I'm in love with Shane." 

The asshole fucking laughed at you. Your eyes popped open and you glared at him, crossing your arms and huffing out an annoyed breath. 

"I'm glad you think it's funny," you muttered. "This is a real problem, you bastard. He's my best friend! I fucked up!" 

Daryl's eyes were still dancing as he put both hands on your shoulders and kissed your forehead. "You're an idiot, Ace. Literally everyone knows that already but the two of ya. Just talk to him. Jesus fuckin' Christ." 

"That's like... the least helpful suggestion in the history of ever!" you yelled after him as he walked away.


	33. Lie #33: "It Just Wasn't The Right Time" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
domestic violence/abuse and injury  
mentions of gang activity

Andrea had found a good spot for shooting, Shane gave her that. She was eager to learn, too, and Shane knew that'd take her far. Hell, he'd taught a lot of students in his time with King County, and that was one of the critical factors separating them- dedication. 

That, and aim.

Ace was up on the RV with the rifle slung over her shoulder, and Shane smiled when he saw her. He had no idea why she'd come to talk to him earlier, no idea why she'd wanted him after he'd been such a goddamn asshole to her, but shit was he grateful. Shane felt more settled than he'd been in a long damn time. 

Even if Rick and Lori had excommunicated him, Ace knew he'd fucking killed a man and she'd shrugged and said 'good'. It made him worry about her more than little, but he'd take it. He had someone, no matter what. 

He headed into the farm house after making sure she had some water up there- Georgia's fucking hot in the summer and they were still in it, damn it- to check in with Rick. Rick was in Carl's room, and it was damn good to see the kid look better. 

He was asleep, face still pale, but he wasn't sweaty and almost translucent with blood loss, and he didn't have that look around him that Shane couldn't define. The one that said he'd come way too close to not being there anymore.

Shane flashed to Carl's blood on Rick's hands and Rick's blood on his own, and he shivered even in the heat. He shoved that away and knocked lightly at the bedroom door. Rick glanced up and gave a tired smile. 

"You're back," he said, rising and coming to where Shane hovered. 

"Yeah, man. How's he doin'?" Shane asked, having trouble taking his eyes off Carl. 

Rick clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "He's good. He's in and out a bunch still, but he- he talked about the deer. The first time he woke up, while you were gone? He talked about the deer. He's asked about Sophia too, so he's- he's lucid when he's awake. Just healing now." 

Shane closed his eyes and leaned into the hug, remembering the day Carl'd been born, Rick shouting over the phone to Shane that Lori was in labor and what the hell was he supposed to do? Shane, laughing, suggested taking the poor woman to the hospital. Shane had met them there as soon as he could, since he'd been on shift with Lam, what with Rick out hovering over Lori for the past week. He'd shown up with flowers and a cheeseburger (her request) for Lori, cigars for Rick, and a pack of diapers and a sheriff's office onesie for the newest Grimes. 

Rick had pulled him into a hug like this one, Shane remembered, and Lori had kissed his cheek when he hugged her while she sat in the hospital bed. Then she'd handed Shane the tiny little thing that was Carl. 

"There you go, Uncle Shane," she'd said with a smile. "Meet Carl." 

Shane shoved back the heartbreak and did the manly back-slap thing with Rick, as Ace would have called it. "I'm- you don't know how-" he tried, and Rick smiled at him. 

"Yeah, I do," Rick said simply, and a knot in Shane's chest tightened. Rick at least knew, no matter what, how much Shane loved Carl. 

He tried not to feel guilty about the things Rick didn't know, or he'd spill them all out right now and it just wasn't the time. A voice whispered in the corner of his mind that there never would be a right time at this rate, and goddamn Shane was afraid the voice might be right. 

"Andrea found a good spot for gun work," he said. "Just wanted to check in. Let you know." 

Rick nodded, one hand hooking into his belt and the other rubbing at his eyes. "Good. Alright. We'll get- we'll do that tomorrow. We'll get teams out there, grid the area, and find Sophia. Carl's asked after her. He asked where you've been, too." 

Shane grimaced, running a hand over his head. "Shit, man. I'll come by more. I could sit with him for awhile now, if you wanted to go get some sleep. Maybe eat something. You're skin and bones, brother." 

"Yeah, yeah, not all of us have your superhero physique," Rick shot back. 

Shane laughed, like he always did, but as Rick went back to sit by Carl and take his hand, Shane thought he wasn't the superhero after all. That had always been Rick.

He called Rick while he drove ninety with Ace unconscious in the passenger seat. 

"Rick. I need you to get on the phone with Atlanta PD and tell them there's an officer in an off-duty vehicle with an injured woman on the way to the hospital. Get me an escort or just keep them out of my way, cause I ain't stopping," he snapped as soon as Rick answered with a groggy 'hey, man'.

"What the hell, Shane?" Rick asked, bewildered. 

"I'll call you later. Just do it!" he snarled and hung up on him. "Come on, Slugger, wake up, damn it," he whispered, checking her pulse again with his fingers. At least the cut in her scalp had stopped bleeding, and Shane already knew he was going to burn the shirt with her blood all over it currently in a ball in his backseat.

Shane took a turn fast enough he should have been on two wheels, and wished he had a faster fucking car. Moments later, a cruiser pulled up beside him, lights and siren on, and Shane glanced over fully prepared to flip them off and get himself involved in a police chase as long as it got lights changed and her ass to the hospital faster. The officer held up a thumbs up and pulled in front of him and Shane thanked God for Rick fucking Grimes even as his phone buzzed. 

"Dispatch says you should have an escort. Shane, what's going on?" Rick asked, voice a calm spot in the red haze of anger and fear that was Shane's world. 

"Bastard hit her. She was bleeding and she's unconscious. Head wound," he snapped. 

"Who? Who hit who? You're not making any sense, brother. Take a breath and talk to me." 

"That asshole she's been dating. Knocked Slugger clean out, and fuckin' drove off. I'm gonna kill him, Rick. I'm gonna kill him," Shane said, voice a cold, hard promise. 

"Shane, do not do anything rash, you hear me? He hit her before? She file any reports?" Rick's voice had slipped into business mode; cop mode. 

Shane's grip on the wheel tightened thinking this might not have been a one-time thing. 

"I don't know. I don't fucking know, Rick! Goddamn it! Shit, I'm here. I gotta- I gotta go," he stammered, and hung up on Rick's questions as he slammed on the breaks outside the emergency room doors. 

He found Ace scowling after her brother's retreating back, looking annoyed as all hell. Shane shook his head, wondering why he liked it so damn much when she wore his shit. He needed to just give her that flannel she'd had the other night, to go with the hat she now wore turned backwards on her head. 

Shit, he wished he had a camera. 

She wandered toward the campfire, bending and grabbing a stick as she went. Shane winced a little when he saw the hickey on her ribs, right below that lacy thing and in plain sight with the ripped-up shirt she still wore. He felt a little bad for that- they hadn't really discussed whether or not they were going public with this whole thing they were doing- but like his hat on her head, it gave him a curl of lazy satisfaction as well. 

Come to think of it, though, there were a lot of things they hadn't talked about with this arrangement of theirs, he realized. Like what the rules were. Were they only seeing each other? Shane had never been one for more than one woman at a time, and it wasn't like he was interested in anyone else in the group, after all. But still, they weren't even really seeing each other at all- just friends who had sex on occasion, right? Shit, should they be having this conversation? 

Fuck. Shane didn't know how to handle this shit in the middle of the end of the world. 

Lori walked by and she and Ace had a short exchange, Ace nodding as Lori pointed to a couple things around camp. Ace gestured as well, she and Lori laughed, and Ace patted Lori's arm as Lori moved on. 

There was something else they should probably talk about, Shane thought with a grimace. Now that Andrea knew, it was probably only a matter of time before it got around, and some flicker of something told Shane he should be the one to tell Ace about him and Lori. 

He ducked into his tent, thinking about how the hell to approach that conversation- 'hey, Slugger, we should talk about the fact that I was fucking my best friend's wife for awhile; still like me?' He went digging around in his pack for the second wrap Maggie had given him for his ankle. 

He pulled out Ace's blood-stained sketchbook instead and glanced out through the tent flap. She sat in one of the camp chairs, staring at the ground and using her stick to doodle something in the dirt. 

It would probably end up being a goddamn masterpiece, Shane thought with a shake of his head. Like everything that woman did. 

He flipped through the pages of the sketchbook with a smile, avoiding the one where he looked like the grim fucking reaper, and tucked it under his arm as he dug around in his pack again. He was pretty sure he'd found her pencil, too, but if not he could score one from the farmhouse for her... 

He fished two out of his bag and chuckled to himself, heading out to the campfire. He glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, she'd created a mini-scene of the farm in the dirt. 

"I know you like to use a lot of shit for your art, Slugger, but there's gotta be something better than dirt," he said. 

She jumped a little, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Shit, you scared me. I was thinking. I mean, yeah. There's many, many better mediums than dirt. I just don't have any of them right now. Damn, I miss my sketchbook." 

"You have so much talent," Carol said quietly from where she sat patching a rip in a pair of jeans. "I don't know how you do it." 

Ace blushed, waving that off. "Hours of practice, is all." 

"Yeah, that's part of it," Shane agreed, because he knew how much damn work she'd put in even in just the time he'd known her. "But there's more to it than that. I mean, look at this one," he continued, flipping her sketchbook open to one of her mural ideas for the quarry wall. 

It showed a woman with her hands covering half her face, with her hair formed out of riotous, abundant plant life. While done in pencil like all the others in it, Shane knew where she'd have done color in the plants, greens and yellows and reds in the flowers and shit that made the hair. He knew her style, his Ace. 

"That shit takes talent as well as practice," he continued, holding it up so Carol, T Dog, and Andrea could see. Murmurs of agreement came from them all, and Ace blushed and muttered something dismissive under her breath. 

Then she straightened and whipped around as it sank in that Shane was showing them one of hers, and she let out an excited squeal when she saw the sketchbook in his hands. "Oh my god, where did you find that?" 

He grinned, dangling it just out of reach as she jumped up and reached for it. "Picked it up by the fire, back at camp. I forgot I had it, to be honest." 

"Damn it, Dickhead, gimme!" she said, leaning into him as she tried to snatch it from his hand. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him even as he kept it out of reach and looked from it to her with a mock surprised expression. 

"You.. you want this?" he asked. 

Laughter echoed around as she growled something at him and kept trying to practically climb over him to get to it. He was about to give it to her anyway, really he was, when she changed tactics and kissed him smack on the mouth. His hand on her back knotted into her shirt and she nabbed the sketchbook from him, breaking the kiss just as suddenly as she'd started it. Shane wanted to be mad about that, but as usual she left him dazed and grinning instead.

"Ha! Yessss!" she crowed, her own dazzling smile in place.

He sighed and ran a hand over his head as she plopped back down, rifling through the pages to the nearest blank one. Then she frowned and looked back up at him.   
He gave her his best innocent expression and her eyes narrowed. 

"You have pencils." 

It wasn't a question. 

Shane bit his lip and shrugged, resisting the urge to toss her over his shoulder and haul her off to his tent. "Maybe." 

"What do you want for them?" she asked. 

He shrugged. "What are you willing to trade?" he teased, forgetting the people all around for a minute. 

She beckoned him over, and he bent so she could whisper in his ear. "Absolutely nothing, you ass. Just give me the damn pencils!" 

He cracked up and pulled them from his back pocket, handing them over as she beamed at him. "Fine. You win. Happy now?" 

She grunted something at him, already lost in her own world. Shane brushed a kiss to her cheek and looked up to find three amused faces giving him those knowing looks. He rolled his eyes and limped off to see what he could find to use for target practice. 

Shane leaned on the cruiser, waiting for Rick to get his ass out of the gas station so they could get some lunch before they got another call. Shane was hungry, damn it. 

A woman walked by with a toddler in a stroller and a baby strapped to her chest, heading to the park nearby, and the toddler waved and babbled something in that language only people close to little kids understood. Shane grinned and waved back. 

"Ma'am," he said with a nod for the kid's mom, who blushed and ducked her head, eyeing him with a tiny smile, and mumbled back a hello. "Have a lovely day." 

Shane remembered when Carl had been that age, doing that babble-language thing. Lori had been the best at following what Carl was saying, of course, but Shane had been delighted when he realized he could figure most things out as well. The first time Carl had called him 'Uncle Shane' it hadn't sounded remotely like 'Uncle Shane' but Shane had known... and felt absurdly proud of himself. 

He let his eyes wander the street, keeping an eye on the mom and kids. When they reached the park, he turned back to contemplating the building across from him. Well, not so much the building as the collection of tags painted onto it, along with a couple of graphic suggestions of violence, sexual favors being solicited, and one racist slur. Shane shook his head, marveling at the difference being friends with Ace for a few months had made. 

There was a time when he'd thought that shit was what all graffiti was about- just shit that made others uncomfortable, was downright hurtful, or gang signs and messages. After he'd hung out at Ace's place a few times, flipped through some of the art books on her shelves and heard a soap box lecture or two, he could mostly pick out which of those tags over there were someone who was serious about street art, which ones were gang related, and which ones were- as Ace said mid-rant- 'assholes who give artists like me a bad name'. 

Shane pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of one of the tags, cropping out one of the more lurid suggestions before he pulled up her contact. 

\-- this what I think it is? 

The response was near-instant and Shane blinked in surprise.

\-- Dickhead, where the hell are you? That's gang sign. You in Atlanta?

\-- Naw, I'm in King County. We'd heard rumors the Vatos were spreading down here and I'm staring at a wall full of tags and some colorful suggestions. Thought this one looked familiar. 

He sighed and took a couple more pictures, this time not cropping anything out. He'd put them on file and mark the one tag, for records. If the Vatos were moving in, they'd need to stay on top of it.

\-- Yeah, that's Vatos. Look, if you promise not to ask where I get the info I might be able to tell you if there's any messages on the wall- they use code, you know. Send me the whole thing. 

Shane chewed on his lip, eyeing some of the suggestions dubiously. He already knew where she'd get the info- he knew about her older brother's lifestyle- but not asking meant he wouldn't have to put it in any reports.

\-- You sure? It's, uh- pretty graphic. 

\-- Dude. 

Shane snorted at that one, rolled his eyes, and sent one of the wide shots. 

\-- Shit. Yeah, ok. Give me a bit and I'll get back to you. No questions, right? 

\-- No questions, Slugger, don't worry. Hey....

\-- ?

Shane typed, deleted, decided she'd find it funny and not offensive after all, and retyped. 

\-- Suggestion number three looks familiar.

\-- Don't be an asshole, Dickhead, Jesus. 

Shane laughed out loud, hearing her dry tone clearly. He started to reply when she sent another message, this one a picture. 

\-- THIS is real art. Look at that.

Half her face was in the frame, smiling and excited, and over her shoulder across the street was a riot of color on a brick wall. Shane could tell right away it wasn't one of hers- she didn't do abstract really- but he studied it anyway. 

\-- Yeah, it's nice. Not my thing, but looks cool. Looks like, I don't know, creativity. 

\-- Exactly! It's outside a local art center. I know the guy who did it; he'd love that assessment.

Shane was smiling down at a string of incoming messages, one or two sentences each and closer up shots of the piece with her explanation of what everything meant when Rick came out. 

"Ready to go?" Rick asked. 

"Hmmm?" Shane looked up and blinked at him. In his hand, his phone buzzed again. "Yeah, man, why don't you drive?" 

He tossed Rick the keys without looking, opening her latest message.


	34. Lie #34: "Wish You'd Put Some More Clothes On, Dickhead" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
anger control issues  
mentions of past domestic abuse/violence  
mentions of past child abuse

Shane and Rick came stalking back toward camp not speaking and with thunderous expressions. 

You sighed, flipped your sketchbook closed, and headed to intercept them. As you passed Rick, he glared over his shoulder at Shane, then looked at you. 

"You talk some sense into him," Rick snapped. "I've gone all I can." 

Your eyebrows shot up as Rick strode off again, and you looked back at where Shane had stopped with his hands on his hips and his eyes closed. 

"Well, that's encouraging," you muttered. "Hey, Dickhead. What's going on?" 

"He won't listen to fucking reason!" Shane exploded immediately. He grabbed his hat with both hands to adjust it this time, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to grin. 

"About what? Jesus, all you ever used to say about Rick was he was too damn reasonable. Now he's not?" 

Shane shot you a glare and tossed his hands up. "I just suggested maybe we won't find the girl and maybe we should start thinking about the needs of the whole goddamn camp, instead of riskin' everyone's fuckin' lives over a girl who is probably dead already." 

"Shit, Shane," you said with a wince. "Is that how you said it?" 

He turned away with a scoff. "Of course not, I- " 

You waited when he cut himself off and ran a hand across his face. He looked back over at you, biting his lip as he shook his head. 

"I'm not wrong," he said seriously. 

You stepped closer to him and slid your hand in his, firmly telling yourself you'd done that a thousand times before and it wouldn't mean anything to him. He gripped your hand tightly, looking beyond you toward camp. 

"I'm not wrong. She doesn't- after seventy-two hours, we were looking for bodies. You know how many kids we got called up to look for? You know how many of them we found alive? Weren't anywhere near the same number, Slugger. And that was before," he added. 

You nodded, thinking of late night texts and Shane's face behind one of the Lullaby's Valhalla mugs, talking about calls in a low, guilt-stricken voice. "I know." 

He glanced at you with an apologetic smile. "Yeah, you would. Sorry, just- he won't listen. He's so damn idealistic, and I'm trying to save lives here, Ace. He wants to save every fuckin' cat up in a tree, and... Damn it, I'm not wrong." 

"You're not wrong," you agreed. You paused as he looked at you and gave him a knowing look. "You are being a little bit of an asshole about it, though." 

He scowled at you, but you maintained your amused and knowing expression until he sighed and eyed the camp again. "Yeah, you're probably right." 

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right," you told him cheerfully. 

He snorted and started walking, and you noticed he was limping a little, like he'd been on the ankle too long. Stubborn bastard wasn't letting it heal like he'd been told. He didn't let go of your hand, and you tried once again not to read anything into it. You'd done this sort of thing before, after all. It was just Shane. 

Then he paused, bent down, and plucked a little yellow flower from the grass, turning and handing it to you absently. 

"It's just, Rick, see, he wants everything to be like it was before, but it ain't. Slugger, this ain't the same world. He's gotta see that. He's gotta see that right call is the one that keeps us all alive. It ain't hard," Shane said, walking again and completely oblivious to your reaction. 

Your feet moved with him, apparently, and you must have said something in response since he didn't ask you if you were alive or anything. You didn't have a clue what the hell you said though, since you were too busy staring at the tiny yellow flower in your hand and trying not to run it across your cheek like a goddamn idiot. 

You slid it behind your ear instead, God help your ridiculous ass, and tried to focus on what he was saying. 

Shane was actually sitting still for once, cleaning guns- something he seemed to do obsessively- with his shirt open, and you were curled in your camp chair by the fire, trying not to make it completely obvious that you were drawing him. You didn't think you were succeeding, since he looked over at you and stuck his tongue out. You rolled your eyes before going back to work on his hands, filling in details of his fingers wrapped around the butt of his Glock; knuckles that seemed permanently scraped up these days; the veins in his bent wrist where he held the brush in the slide of the broken-down gun. 

"Oh, sweetie. You've got it bad, don't you?" Carol said softly beside you. 

You blinked at her, concentration breaking with difficulty. "What?" 

She chuckled and nodded at your sketchbook. "You're crazy about him. It shows." 

You could actually feel the blush light up your entire face, and you couldn't help the way your eyes darted to Shane before you looked down at your hands instead. That didn't help, because there you were staring at him still anyway, just in pencil on the page. 

"We're friends. I draw Shane all the time," you muttered, knowing the protests were getting a little thin. 

Damn Daryl, you thought. Why'd he have to go and say everyone knew? Shit. 

Carol made a little noise that was acknowledgement without being agreement and you grimaced at the drawing even as you kept working on it. 

"Walker. Walker!" Andrea yelled from the RV, and you were on your feet in an instant. 

Shane snapped the clip into the Glock he'd just finished reassembling and tossed it to you on the fly as Rick came running. You snatched it out of the air as he scooped up his shotgun. 

You racked a bullet into the chamber and nodded to him grimly. 

"Just the one?" Rick asked. 

There was a pause as Andrea scanned with the binoculars. "I bet I can nail it from here," she said, reaching for her gun. 

"No. No, Andrea, put the gun down," Rick instructed. "We don't need the noise."

Shane scoffed and traded his shotgun for an ax, and you started to put his Glock back. "You'd best let us handle this, Andrea. Ace, you keep that damn gun, sweetheart." 

You rolled your eyes and but kept it gripped in your hand, falling into step with him and a bat-carrying T Dog. You eyed Shane for a second, already contemplating drawing him carrying that ax with his shirt all undone like that. Really, the man was a fucking menace, walking around with those abs out for the world to see. 

And you needed to get your head out of the goddamn gutter when there was a threat in front of you, for fuck's sake.

"Hershel wants to handle walkers," Rick called to Shane, but you were already on your way into the field. 

"What for? We got it covered," you said over your shoulder.

Shane shot you a look as you followed him, T, and Glenn into the field while Rick muttered a 'damn it' behind you. "Wish you'd stay back, Slugger." 

"Wish you'd put some more clothes on, Dickhead," you shot back. 

He snorted and winked at you. "Naw, you don't." 

No, you really fucking didn't. Instead of responding to that, you broke into a jog, and the others kept up as Rick reached you.

Rick shot you an annoyed look. "You were supposed to help me talk some sense into him." 

"According to who?" you asked bluntly. "I agree with-" 

You froze when you reached the walker, your hands starting to shake. 

"Is that-?" Glenn asked, sounding dismayed. 

"Daryl?" you whispered. 

"That's the third time you pointed that thing at my head," Daryl snarled at Rick, who for all his no-noise talk had his Python aimed at your brother's head. Again. "You gonna pull the trigger or what?" 

You turned away from him, tears welling and spilling over your eyes in the rush of relief and adrenaline, and pressed the back of your hand to your mouth as you stared into the distance and tried to calm the fuck down. Shane reached for you, hand sliding across your cheek and to the back of your neck, and you let him pull you into his shoulder even as the words ripped out of you. 

"Damn it, Daryl!"

"What, sis? I'm-" 

The shot echoed, you whipped around wide-eyed, and you screamed when you saw Daryl on the ground. 

Shane and Rick reached Daryl's side while you were still shaking like a leaf, Will's belt on Merle's back echoing in your ears along with the blast from the gun. 

Andrea- Andrea had- 

Andrea had fucking shot Daryl. She'd shot your brother. 

She'd shot your brother in the goddamn head after being told not to shoot. 

"I was kidding," Daryl mumbled as Rick and Shane hauled him up to his feet. 

You took one look at the blood running down his face and all over him every-fucking-where else and felt the world dip under you. 

"Whoa, Slugger, Slugger, come on. One unconscious person's enough, girl," Shane snapped as Daryl sagged between them. 

You swallowed hard and nodded rapidly, Shane's eyes concerned on you until you set your jaw. "I'm good. Is he ok? Jesus." 

"Hershel will stitch him up, Ace, don't worry," Shane said as they started moving with him between them. 

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Is he ok?" 

Andrea's voice was frantic and your eyes narrowed as you saw her and Dale running toward you at top speed. 

"Ace? Ace! Damn it! T!" Shane yelled from behind you, but you were already moving. 

You had just enough sense to drop the gun, tossing it over your shoulder in the general direction of T Dog and Glenn. Your hand balled into fists as that temper that Mal always hated- because you fought back, damn it, you thought with a snarl on your lips- slammed into you fierce and bloodthirsty. 

"You bitch!" The words were ripped from your throat and Andrea pulled up short, her eyes wide as you got right up in her face. 

You shoved her back with both hands and she staggered. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? Rick said to leave it to us! You- you shot my brother!" 

"I know. I'm so sor-" She was in the middle of the word 'sorry' when your fist collided with her nose. She fell back into Dale and you'd pulled your knife without conscious decision or command on your part. 

"You're sorry? You shot him!" You moved forward, ready to take her on. Nobody shot Daryl and got away with it, damn it. Except maybe you. 

You hadn't brawled, not really, since defending your own or Daryl's honor in high school. Oh, a punch here and there for an asshole harassing you in the bar, maybe. On occasion you took a swing back at Mal, but for the most part that had only made things worse. The Dixon temper, Will had always joked, was less of a lion in you than it was a house cat. 

Well, even fucking kittens have claws, you thought viciously as you moved toward the bewildered Andrea. 

"Jesus, Slugger, put the- are you kidding me?" Shane appeared suddenly as you stabbed forward, grabbing your wrist and snatching the knife from your hand. You turned on him, swinging with your off hand- you could throw a punch with either, damn it- and Shane ducked it. 

"Stop that!" he snapped, pointing at you. You glared at him, breathing hard with the need to hit the shit out of someone- anyone, but Andrea was your preference- and considering taking him on. You eyed him with the overconfident hubris the teenage schoolyard scrapper you'd been for a short time, reaching the conclusion that you could definitely take him. 

He rolled his eyes. "I'll just throw you over my shoulder if you try, Ace, damn it. Come on, Daryl needs help, not for you to be pickin' fights with one of our own." 

"She shot him!" you yelled, but the rage was already fading. As usual, it left nausea behind, a churning guilt and worry about who you'd come from and what you could become if you let yourself that rolled through your body and left you weak and ashamed. "She shot him, Shane," you whispered. 

"Yeah, I know," he replied, shoving your knife back into the sheath on your belt so he could pull you against him. You leaned your face into his chest and he stroked a hand over your hair. "Go on, get out of here. See if they need anything. I got this. You're fine; just go," he snapped at the others. 

You swallowed hard, seeing the blood on Daryl's face and side, the knife in your hands. You'd been ready to fucking kill Andrea, and- 

"It's ok, sweetheart. He's gonna be fine," Shane whispered in your ear. You grabbed onto his shirt and started sobbing hysterically, though it wasn't your brother you cried for. 

You pulled your shit together, mumbled something to Shane without meeting his eyes, and he kept your hand in his as you made your way to the house. Hershel was already stitching Daryl's side when you came in the room, and he glared at you. 

"What the hell ya go after her with the knife for when ya had a gun in your hand?" he snapped. 

You sighed and rubbed tiredly at your eyes, knowing they were probably all red-rimmed from the crying jag. Because trying to kill her hadn't been embarrassing enough. "What the hell happened to you out there? Fall on your own crossbow?" you retorted.

He grimaced and pulled the rag away from where the bullet had grazed his head. "Somethin' like that," he muttered. 

You snorted out a laugh before you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle it. "Jesus Christ, Daryl." 

"Language, young lady," Hershel snapped. 

"Sorry," you muttered, meeting Daryl's eyes and rolling your own. "So, what happened?" 

"I found Sophia's doll," Daryl said. "Washed up on the creek bed. She must have dropped it crossing there somewhere." 

Rick had a map spread over the bed in front of Daryl and you fought back the urge to tell them all that your brother was getting stitched up and this could wait five minutes. Because it really couldn't, and you knew Daryl felt the same way. She'd been gone too long already. 

"Cuts the grid almost in half," Rick commented. Shane snorted and you ignored them both and focused on watching Daryl's face. He wasn't even twitching as Hershel stitched him up, probably since he was fucking used to it from you and you weren't as practiced as Hershel was. 

"I had no idea we'd be going through so many antibiotics," Hershel said pointedly as he finished off Daryl's stitches. "Any idea what happened to my horse?"

"The one that almost killed me? If it's smart, it left the country," Daryl shot back, and you turned your face to Shane's shoulder to hide your grin at Hershel's disapproving response. 

Called the damn horse Nervous Nelly for a reason. Served him right for not asking permission first, you thought. The worry was fading as Daryl leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, and Hershel took digs at Rick and your group that Rick ignored. 

Shane kissed your forehead and clapped Daryl on the shoulder, pulling the door closed behind him as he left the room. 

You rested your elbows on your knees so you could put your head in your hands with a groan. "What the fuck, Daryl?" 

"Come over here already," he said dryly. "I'm fine, but you won't believe it till ya blubber all over me for awhile. Might as well get it over with." 

You scowled at him, but you stood and climbed onto the bed anyway, curling up and facing him with your head on the same pillow. "I don't blubber." 

He snorted. "Why ya tearin' up then?" 

You sniffed and tried to pretend you weren't. "You could have died, you idiot."

"Didn't though." 

"You need a better unit of measure," you mumbled. 

He shot you a crooked grin. "Shit, girl. We survived Will. Damn horse ain't gonna kill me. Besides, Merle helped." 

"The fuck?" you exclaimed. "Merle?"

"Yeah. I's hallucinating. He pissed me off. Got me to the top." Daryl shrugged like that was no big fucking deal. "Sayin' all this bullshit about taking care of us and us not lookin' for him. I told him he was full of it. Kept sayin' how everyone in the group just thinks I'm redneck trash, gonna shake me off like dogshit before too long." 

Your eyes narrowed, threat and denial on your lips, and he rolled his eyes and put his hand over your mouth. 

"Don't start. I told him he was wrong, and he'd always been wrong. Some ways, I think he might've been as bad as your asshole Mal. Shit, you'n'me? We were always there for each other more than he was there for us. Maybe that's why we fought so bad all these years. Both in the same kinda dysfunctional relationships, huh? Didn't want to see it for ourselves, so we took it out on each other. Glad we stopped." 

You peeled his hand off your mouth to smile at him through the tears spilling from your eyes. "Damn it, Daryl." 

"There ya go, blubberin' again," he teased. 

"You're such an asshole. I'm glad you're alive," you told him. 

He shot you a half-grin. "Thanks. You talk to Shane yet?" 

"God. Never mind, you can go fall down the creek again."


	35. Lie #35: "I Apologize If I Seem Insensitive To The Needs Of Others" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
references to past child abuse

Shane closed the door, leaving Ace with her brother for a minute. She'd gone so damn pale and terrified out there she'd scared the shit out of Shane. 

Course then she'd gone off like a goddamn firecracker and showed just how much of the Dixon fighting spirit was in there, he thought with amusement he hadn't felt when he was hustling to take a knife from her hand before she killed Andrea with it. Chucked his gun over her shoulder and went for the knife- just like a damn Dixon. 

Shane fucking loved it. 

He hadn't loved her falling apart after, and he'd known by the look in her eyes and the unsteadiness of her voice that it wasn't all about fear for Daryl. He wondered what had happened to her in the past when she lost her temper, to make it so she feared being out of control that much. 

They really did need to talk some more, he thought. But right now, he needed to have an uncomfortable conversation with Rick- and Lori, who'd been waiting in the hallway. 

"You know, I hate to say it, but I gotta agree with Hershel on this one," he said as Rick started to walk off. "We can't keep going back out there, not after this." 

"You'd quit now?" Rick snapped. "Daryl just risked his life to bring back the first hard evidence we've had!" 

"That's one way to look at it," Shane said slowly, trying desperately to take Ace's advice to heart and not be an asshole about it. "The way I see it, Daryl almost died today for a doll." 

"Yeah, I know how you see it," Rick sneered. 

Shane watched him walk away, frustrated that they couldn't get on the same page again. It was like every time they spoke to each other, they were fighting on six different levels and Shane never knew which one to address. 

Goddamn it, he should have told Rick right away. He glanced at Lori, who'd stayed in the hallway with him. 

"I'm not out to be a hard case. Just bein' realistic. Ace almost lost her brother today. How many more people we gonna put at risk? He's gotta start making the tough calls," Shane said, starting to leave as well. "You know I'm right." 

He'd said that to Ace earlier, and she'd shrugged and agreed. He'd bet Lori wouldn't do the same.

"I may not agree with all of his choices," Lori said, and Shane turned to her. "But I respect him." 

Implying in that lovely subtle way she had that Shane didn't respect him. That Shane didn't respect his best friend, his partner for more years than Rick had been Lori's husband. Jesus, she could push his buttons. 

"And I know yours and mine," she continued. "And your way isn't harder. It's the easiest thing in the world to cut our losses and to not help. You keep telling yourself you're making the tough calls. You're really just trying to justify-" 

Shane talked over her because she was pissing him off and honestly he was just so tired of the drama. He supposed he should have been grateful she wasn't blaming everything that had happened between them on him anymore, but still. She'd come to him, not the other way around. And Shane really, really didn't care what she thought he was trying to justify. 

"The only thing I care about in this world anymore is Ace and you three. You're my family, Lori, whether you want me to be yours or not, and so is she. Guess by extension that means Daryl, too, but he can take care of himself. So I apologize if I seem insensitive to the needs of others, but see, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe," he said coolly. 

"Even abandoning a lost child? Really?" she asked. 

Shane sighed and looked at her, not speaking. 

She scoffed. "My son and I are not your problem anymore. Or your excuse," she shot at him before stalking off. 

Shane shoved off the wall and went the opposite direction, trying not to let himself work up to full steam. Clearly she'd missed the part where he didn't care if she wanted him to be part of her family or not. They were his, so he'd keep them safe. Even from themselves, in her and Rick's case. Lori seemed to think it was all about her, but the truth was, it was all three of them. Shane had been looking out for Rick in spite of himself for pretty much forever, and he was looking out for Ace in spite of herself for six months before the world ended, so if he had to add Lori to the list as well? 

Well, pile it on. Shane could be their fucking bad guy as long as they all fucking lived, damn it.

He and Ace made faces and cracked jokes in low asides to each other all throughout that god-awful dinner, with Ace punctuating the silence attempts at conversation. She'd always been able to talk to anyone, Shane thought when she managed to draw Patricia and the old man himself into a short conversation with her about the importance of cows in various faiths around the world. 

Seriously, Shane had no idea where she came up with that shit sometimes. Despite her best efforts, it was a largely unsuccessful, silent, and morose affair, and Shane knew she was just as glad to get out of there as everyone else. 

The next morning, Hershel's people showed up as they finally went up to the range Shane had put together for gun practice. Carl had lifted a fucking gun from Merle's bike, and Shane had a moment of feeling like part of the family with the Grimes's again when Rick entrusted him with teaching Carl to shoot. 

Shane was a certified instructor, and he approached the problem as such, despite having cans, bottles, and other household goods as their only targets. He lined everyone up, taught them the basics of gun safety- safety on and off, magazine in and out, check the chamber, don't put your finger on the trigger unless you're ready to shoot, don't point it at someone alive- and then he, Rick, and T Dog watched, corrected, and took notes while they went to town. 

Ace hovered in the background, ready to lend a hand if needed and with Shane's Glock shoved into her belt. Shane made a note to find her a holster or just give her his own, because that shit wasn't safe. Every time he looked at her, she looked uncomfortable as hell. 

Finally Shane wandered over and leaned against the car behind her. "Slugger, you wanna show these people how it's done?" he asked, teasing to try to get her to talk. 

She scoffed. "Not really. I don't like this shit." 

"Why not?" Shane asked. 

Her eyes wandered the targets, lingering as Carol took careful aim and blew one of the bottles away. "Carol's gonna be good. Carl's young enough, give him a little time and familiarity he'll be a crack shot. You're a good instructor, Shane." 

"Thanks," he said, but he was watching her face. "Ace." 

She glanced at him, smiled slightly, and touched his cheek. "Just a nightmare of a memory, Dickhead. I'll tell you all about it sometime if you want, but not here. Alright, fine. Want me to show 'em how it's done? Let's go." 

She shoved off the car, headed up to a spot on the fence between Carl and Carol, and winked at the kid. "Watch this," she whispered. 

She whipped the Glock up and fired three times in rapid succession, missing every single bottle and can Shane had stacked. Carl- and everyone else- looked to her in confusion. She turned and smirked at Shane, who glanced at Rick. Rick seemed just as confused as he was, so Shane pulled his binoculars. 

He panned slowly. "I don't see anything, Slugger." 

"'Cause they're on the ground. Send someone down range when you've cleared all the weapons; you'll see," she called, already strolling away back toward the farm. 

Rick and Shane shrugged at each other and everyone went back to work. 

Andrea turned out to be the best of them, ready to try moving targets, and Shane asked her to ride along as his backup out to the housing development Rick wanted them to check for Sophia.

Shane sent Carl up to the trees to see what the hell Ace had been shooting at, and the kid's expression when he came back with two dead squirrels had been one of sheer awe. Shane got that, he mused with a shake of his head back toward camp as they loaded targets into the car to drive back. 

She blew his mind often enough. 

'Course then he and Rick had themselves a disagreement on search procedures, and Shane used up every ounce of patience he had trying to not be an asshole to Rick. He wasn't sure if he succeeded or not, but he was damn sure he fucked up while working with Andrea because of it. He never should have brought her sister into it, and he knew it as soon as the words popped out of his mouth. He apologized after she stalked off angrily, which Shane had absolutely earned, no damn question. 

He'd have given her a lift back to camp, but the thing was, he still needed that backup. 

"You know, you're a real dick sometimes," Andrea shot at him. 

Shane flashed her an amused grin. "Yeah, I acknowledge that. Slugger reminds me of it all the time. Tell you what, I got a lead on Sophia. Gonna go check it out. Why don't you come with me; be my backup?" 

She eyed him for a minute, and he tried a small smile on for size. When her face softened and she nodded, he gestured her back into the car. 

He had a bad feeling about the place as soon as he pulled up, and it only got worse when they started going house to house. Shane didn't think that little lost girl had made it this far, and he was dreading the inevitable moment when Shane would have to be the asshole again and remind everyone that risking their whole goddamn group for one person was a bad idea. 

The kid cases had hit him the hardest, until he'd learned how to put some damn distance between himself and the grieving parents. 

On the list of horrific things Shane had seen since the world ended, the torched out garage with it's burned and twisted bodies shouldn't have really registered. But it did. 

Someone had tried to make a stand here, and this was proof they'd failed. Shane wondered if all of them were doomed to fail as well; if, as that fucking bastard doctor had said, this was humanity's extinction event. 

It was damn near Shane and Andrea's extinction event when the crowd of the dead came at them out of goddamn nowhere. He got Andrea out of the house, took in the walkers around the car and coming up the street, and declared this fucking search done. 

"You cover the street, I'll clear the car," he snapped to Andrea, wishing he had Rick or Daryl or Ace at his back, someone he knew could shoot well enough to not put holes in their escape vehicle and to keep the walkers off his goddamn back. 

He handled the car easily, and turned just in time for Andrea's gun to jam before she could nail one. With their exit under control, Shane started to feel bad for how their training session had gone earlier. This seemed as good a moment as any, so he covered her ass and walked her through it. 

"Focus now. Clear the jam. Focus," he instructed calmly, dropping the nearest walker to give her more time. Ain't nothing to help you learn like baptism by fire, and Shane could reasonably control this situation well enough for her. He owed her that much, he supposed, for the crack about her sister and for the fact that so far she'd kept her mouth shut about him and Lori. 

"Are you kidding me?" she yelled at him as she fumbled her way through clearing it and another walker came snarling awful close. 

Shane didn't take the shot, because she'd done it; her gun was clear and she was back in control. "Come on, I've got your back, now shoot!" he snapped. 

She did, and nailed it first shot. 

"There you go. Now let's go," he said. 

They were driving in silence, Shane staring out the windshield and thinking about Ace's face on the gun range, her saying she'd tell him all about it. He thought about all the other things they needed to talk about, and damn. 

He was starting to understand why he didn't actually know all that much about her shit, since it was so much easier to just not talk about it and be them, hanging out and enjoying each other. 

All the sudden, Andrea had a hand on Shane's crotch and he looked over at her, hitting the brakes in complete surprise. She lifted one eyebrow, biting her lip suggestively, and Shane just kind of shut down for a minute. 

He knew adrenaline could do wacky things to you, and she'd done damn well there at the end so she was no doubt riding that high. And yeah, they'd gotten a mild flirt on a few times, and she'd been giving him that look, but everyone knew he and Ace were- 

Shit. What were they? 

What did he want them to be? Was he interested in this, with Andrea? 

Shane realized he'd been staring at her for long enough that it was getting awkward- though to be fair, the hand on his junk was already awkward enough- and he ran a hand over his head and looked for some goddamn words. 

"Uh. I, uh- Look, Andrea, you're great and all, but-" he started, shifting uncomfortably and not meeting her eyes. 

She removed her hand from his dick at least, though she shrugged and didn't stop looking at him like an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Still not asking you to go steady, Shane. If that makes a difference." 

It did, but not in the way she meant. Ace hadn't asked him to go steady either, but Shane had just realized that she was his girl and he didn't want anyone else. Shane smiled out the window, where Andrea couldn't see, and turned back to her with a serious expression. 

"I appreciate the compliment, and not that long ago, I'd have said come on," he told her. "But I gotta- I gotta say no, sugar. Sorry." 

Andrea shrugged like it didn't matter and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest like she'd take a nap instead. Her cheeks were faintly red, and Shane felt a little bad, but hell. She'd just up and grabbed him. She could handle a little rejection. 

Shane glanced in the mirror at the backseat where he and Ace had done some pretty awkward things themselves not that long ago. He had a lot to fucking think about since he'd just decided he and Ace were, in fact, together like everyone kept saying they were. 

Now he'd just have to figure out how to convince Slugger being lovers as well as friends a good idea after all. 

Ace had one boot-clad foot on the seat of her bar stool and her head propped on the elbow she leaned against the bar. She waved her drink in his direction, some concoction she'd rattled off the recipe for to a laughing Ellie when she and Shane had come in. She faced Shane, who had his back against the wall in his usual spot, and made a face. 

"I mean, sure, having someone around you can rely on is nice and all, but dating- dating just sucks," she complained. 

Shane snorted into his Valhalla mug as he took a sip. Her eyes were slightly glassy and her movements more relaxed and languid than normal, and Shane was glad he'd shown up at her place after work and told her they were going out. That bastard had dumped her again- or maybe she'd dumped him; Shane could never keep up- and she'd had a disappointing date she'd texted him all through the night before, and his Slugger had been in a full-scale wallow. 

When Shane had gotten to her place, she was curled up in his flannel and jeans with rips in the knees and at the pockets, so faded he honestly wasn't sure they hadn't been white to begin with, a half-gallon of ice cream in her hands. Shane had removed the ice cream, shoved her into her bathroom for a shower, and insisted they go out and have some fun. 

He hadn't really been planning on coming where she worked, but hey. Whatever she wanted, and the way she was relaxed and smiling had him thinking it was the right call. She'd come out of her bedroom after the shower looking sleek and sexy as all hell in tight black pants, some lipstick red number that plunged low at the chest and rode high enough to show off her piercing, and Shane's jaw had dropped. 

She'd grinned, shrugged, and said if they were doing it, do it right. Shane agreed with that, though he'd made her grab a jacket since it was getting cold as fall came on. She'd laughed her ass off and called him a mother hen, but Shane wasn't sacrificing his to her thieving hands, no way. 

She shrugged with one shoulder now and took another sip, then sighed heavily. "I dunno, Dickhead. I just- I don't think I'm cut out for love, I guess." 

Shane laughed. "Sweetheart, that's crap." 

"Fine. I guess I just don't know how to do love, then," she said, shoving a hand through her hair- silvery grey with the ends of the strands looking like they'd been dipped into bleach, they were so white- and looking so sad Shane wanted to kiss her until she smiled. 

He blinked that thought away and set his mug down firmly. She was tipsy enough for them both, so it was up to him to keep a sober head- and if he was thinking about kissing Ace he was stepping over that line a little too far. 

"Don't worry, Slugger," he admitted with a crooked grin. "I ain't all that good at it either. At least if we fuck up too badly, we've always got each other." 

She flashed him a grin and raised her glass his way. "Hear, hear!"


	36. Lie #36: "The Zombie Cop Was Not You And I Stand By That, Damn It"  - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon-typical violence  
implied/referenced miscarriage/infertility  
implied/referenced past child abuse  
implied/referenced past domestic violence/abuse

Morning brought all of you gathered around the fire, Carol cooking eggs and everyone generally looking subdued and exhausted. Seemed you hadn't been alone in not sleeping much the night before. Not after the gun range. 

Homemade targets and guns going off, on top of Daryl having been shot the day before, had your near-death-experience at Will's drunken bastard hands a little too close to the surface of your thoughts. Two minutes after getting there with everyone, you'd almost turned tail and headed right back, and it had only been the smooth, practiced way Shane maintained complete control over everyone that had let you stay there. 

Shooting the squirrels had just been you showing off; changing the subject to get him to leave you alone about it. You'd meant it when you'd said you'd tell him, you just couldn't do it right then. No way, no how. 

Then he'd gone with Andrea and- 

Well, frankly, he'd been acting weird since they got back and so had she, and jealousy had reared it's ugly bitch head again. So you'd done the mature thing, and you know, avoided Shane at all costs. It was actually fairly easy to do, what with Daryl moving back to your tent and being told in no uncertain terms that he needed to rest and recover. So you'd gone into full babysitting mode and remembered just how annoying he could be when you spent more than two minutes at a time with him. 

You sighed and set aside your plate after picking at it absently, scooping up your sketchbook instead. You were working on Carl, cute as a fucking button in his dad's hat. You were drawing him glancing up sideways at his mom with a cheeky little smile. 

Daryl finished his eggs and you held your plate out to him without a word.

"So, um... guys?" Glenn asked timidly. 

You didn't look up, filling in shading on the shadows on Carl's face. 

"Uh. The barn's full of walkers." 

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this," Shane snarled at Rick, stepping away from the barn.

You moved forward as Rick shot back that he wasn't, but you were guests here, and Shane's hand snapped out and grabbed your arm. He sent you a look full of such smoldering temper you almost winced. That didn't bode well for this conversation going smoothly. 

"Stay back, Ace, we don't know how well that thing's gonna hold up," Shane ordered. 

You pressed your lips together as he let go of your arm and rolled your eyes heavenward, but Daryl muttered an agreement beside you, eyeing the weathered wood with a critical look. You held your hands up in surrender and stepped back beside Daryl. 

"Thank you," Shane muttered, running his hand over his head as his face softened when you stepped back. Then he returned to glaring at Rick like this was somehow, personally, Rick's fault. "This isn't our land? Well it's our lives, man!" 

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," Andrea said, and you agreed with her, but found yourself glaring on principle. 

Shit, you did not like you as a jealous bitch. Time to get yourself under control. 

"Can you guys lower your voices?" Glenn asked nervously. 

"We've either got to go in there, we make things right, or we have got to just go. Now we've been talking about Fort Benning for a long time," Shane said, settling his hat firmly on his head and gesturing. Anger made his movements sharp and hard and his words harsh, but you knew the man well enough to know he was worried for all of you. 

"We can't go," Rick snarled. He'd taken off his uniform, you realized, and something of the Officer Grimes magic Shane had described so often had gone with it. Rick was pissed too, and you wondered what else was going on under the surface between Rick and Shane. 

"Why not, man?" Shane exploded. 

Quiet, patient Carol spoke up. "Because my daughter's still out there." 

Shane rubbed both hands against his face, and you did wince when he opened his mouth and started talking this time. "Ok, I think it's time that we all start to just- just consider the other possibility."

"Shane, we are not leaving Sophia behind-" Rick started, and Daryl exploded over him. 

"I'm close to finding this girl! I just found her damn doll two days ago!" You grabbed at Daryl's arm as he stalked forward, heading toward Shane in the beginnings of what you knew was fighting temper. 

"You- you found her doll, Daryl, that's what you did. You found a doll!" Shane snapped. 

Daryl paused and you closed your eyes briefly, praying for patience, before Daryl exploded. 

"You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about-" 

"Look, I'm just sayin' what needs to be said," Shane roared back. "You get a good lead, it's in the first forty-eight hours, and let me tell you somethin' else, man, if she was alive out there and she saw you comin', all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction!" 

Daryl started swinging; Rick started yelling; Shane started yelling; and you flung yourself between Daryl and Shane, glaring at your brother with a hand up against his chest. 

"Daryl, back off!" you snapped, and tossed a pissed look at Shane over your shoulder. "You too, Dickhead. Jesus! What's wrong with you?" 

Shane was staring at you with a look on his face you couldn't figure out, but he'd taken a long step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. Deciding he had calmed to fuck down enough, you turned back to Daryl. He was glaring, but he was also breathing hard and looking pale. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Don't make me put you on the ground, brother of mine," you snapped. "I can sew you back up myself if I need to." 

He rolled his eyes at you but he backed off, which had been the whole goddamn point anyway. 

"Shane, just calm-" Lori's voice came from behind you and you turned away from Daryl in time to see her grab at Shane's arm. 

Shane shot her a glare with such searing hatred you were amazed she didn't combust right there. "Keep your hands off me," he snapped, and she blinked, disbelief clear on her face. 

"Look, if we're going to clear out this barn, I need to talk to Hershel! This is his land! Just let me figure it out," Rick said firmly, moving to the center of the ring of angry, worried, and scared faces. 

"What are you going to figure out?" you asked. Eyes turned to you, but you focused on Rick and ignored the rest. "I mean, really. We clear it out or we get away from it. I'm not saying leave without finding Sophia," you assured Carol. "I just mean, we get farther away. We cannot be right here on top of this thing when it's full of the dead." 

"Hershel sees them as people. Sick people," Dale said into the silence. "His wife, his stepson." 

"You knew?" Shane snapped, and yeah. You backed that sentiment up. 

Glenn was crazy about Hershel's daughter already, and she'd asked him not to say anything. But Dale had more goddamn sense than a love-struck idiot who was gettin' some- or so you'd thought. 

"Yesterday. I talked to Hershel," Dale told everyone with a shrug. 

"And you waited the night?" You asked, shoving a hand in your hair and turning to glare at the barn. 

"I thought we could survive one more night. We did. Back off," Dale snapped at you. 

"Don't you talk to her like-" 

"Shane," you said with a sigh. "He's fine. He's probably right. Yesterday was kind of a day, and we were trying to- I don't know, bond. With the dinner and all." 

Shane glared from you to Dale, but he turned back to Rick. "That man is crazy, Rick, whether he thinks those things are sick or not, and-" 

You grabbed at Shane's arm as the barn doors started to rattle. 

"Oh shit," Daryl said.

Rick glared at Shane. "Let's take this discussion further away. I'll talk to Hershel, and you won't do anything, do you hear me?" 

Shane sneered, but his hand wrapped around yours as he turned away. "Yeah, I hear you." 

Shane slowed your pace so the two of you hung back while the others dispersed. Daryl glanced back at you and lifted an eyebrow, and you waved him on. He nodded and you eyed Shane's stormy face. 

"Hey. Listen, sorry I yelled at you, but you went after my brother," you said softly. "I'm the only one who gets to talk to him like that." 

Shane didn't say anything, but he stopped suddenly, turning toward you and staring out over the field. His jaw tightened as he started to speak, stopped, and started again. 

"You got between us." 

You blinked at him. "Yeah? You were about to fight my brother." 

"Yeah, I know Ace, but you- you got between us, and you yelled at him to back off." Shane looked at you, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. 

"And?" you asked slowly, not following this conversation at all. 

"Why? I- shit, girl, I'm dangerous. He's your brother," Shane exploded. 

You snorted. "Yeah, he's more likely to take a swing at me than you are, asshole. I've never gotten in a fist fight with you before, but I shared a room with him as a teenager. We've bloodied each other's noses a few times." 

Shane gave a frustrated growl. "You seriously- Slugger. You mean it, don't you?" 

You leaned your forehead onto his shoulder with a groan. He let go of your hand to wrap his arm around you instead, rubbing a circle against your back as he chuckled. 

"Mean what?" you asked finally, not moving because- 

Well, because it felt nice, and you liked being close to him, and you were a fucking sap. 

"That you don't care about Ed. About Otis." 

"For the love of fuck, Shane," you snapped, shoving back reluctantly to look at his completely wondering expression. "How many ways I gotta say the same thing?" 

He shook his head with a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face when the breeze caught it. "Look, I know, I just- I can't- Ace, you've seen so damn much shit, and we never talk about it. You never talk about it. But you draw your feelings out, sweetheart, and-" 

You tried very hard to keep your face still, though you wanted to turn red and run away screaming bloody fucking murder as Carol's words from the day before came back to you. You were not- you drew Shane all the time. 

You were already working out protests and deflections as he continued, his eyes shifting from yours and his expression sad and guilty. 

"- and I've seen that drawing, Slugger," he finished. 

You blinked. "What drawing?" you asked cautiously. 

This wasn't the first time he'd mentioned one of your drawings in the context of you being afraid of him or hating him or thinking he was a monster, but you'd been too pissed off and, well, horny, at the time to think about it too hard. Now it was coming around again, and you really wanted to know what the fuck drawing he was talking about. 

Wait, this wasn't- 

"Shane, this isn't about the zombie cop mural, is it? Because I told you, that was a commentary on the state of Atlanta PD's codependency with the Mayor's agenda and on the semi-militarized state of the country as-"

"Shut up, would you?" he interrupted you with a roll of his eyes. 

You glared at him and he chuckled. 

"No, this ain't about the zombie cop, but that was me and we both know it. It's fine; I ain't mad. Much. No, I'm talking about that one, in your sketchbook. Where I'd just beat the shit out of Ed, all comic-style and dark and-" 

You scrunched your face up, trying to figure out what he was talking about, but it finally clicked. "You- oh. That one. Shane-" 

He shrugged slightly. "It's fine; I ain't mad about it either. I just- you've drawn me a lot over the years, but never like that." 

"Well, to be fair, you haven't seen every drawing I've ever done of you," you mumbled before your brain caught up to your mouth, and then you really did blush. "But that one isn't- Shane, I didn't do that one because I was scared. I did that one because I wasn't," you continued in a rush. "It wasn't entirely supposed to be you, but yeah, I suppose- I suppose it was." 

Shane snorted. "I've seen enough of your work- we're gonna talk about what I haven't seen, too, Slugger, what the hell you hiding?- to know myself in every damn style you do. Dead or alive." 

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. "The zombie cop was not you and I stand by that, damn it." 

"Sure. Ace, can we just, for once, actually talk?" he asked, abruptly serious. 

Everything in you completely melted at the look on his face. You sighed and touched his cheek. "I'm trying. I really am. It's just... it's hard. To talk about things. I was thinking about Mal and Will and everything, and I was thinking about you standing over Ed telling him not to touch anyone again. Shane, no one's ever protected me like that. Sure, Merle took some beatings for us as kids. He tried, when he was there, but he rarely was. And Daryl and I, we looked out for each other as much as we could." 

You swallowed hard around the sudden lump in your throat. "I'm not used to someone- anyone- being protective over me. That drawing is how you looked to me at the time, yes; but it's not- you're not the monster, Shane. You're the hero." 

You didn't meet his eyes as you mumbled the last bit, knowing your cheeks were flaming and if you looked at him right then you might say something idiotic, like blurting out that you loved him. Thankfully, he didn't speak. 

But he pulled you into a hug instead- the kind where he buried his face in your hair and whispered things you couldn't quite hear, where he locked his hands in your shirt to hold you close, and you pressed your ear to his chest to listen to his racing heart. 

"What's it gonna be, man?" Shane asked Rick quietly. 

You lifted your head from Shane's shoulder, flipping your sketchbook closed and looking up at Rick. You and Shane had parked yourselves near the barn, keeping an eye on the thing from as close as you dared get. 

Ok, Shane had done that. You'd collected your drawing supplies and wandered out when you saw him after checking in on Daryl's stubborn ass and making sure he wasn't pissed at you for yelling at him. He wasn't, but he said he was going to get pissed at you if you kept acting like he was gonna go off every time the two of you had a disagreement. You'd flipped him off and left him alone to play with his crossbow's single remaining bolt- the one he'd pulled out of his side, not that you wanted to think about that too damn hard. 

You'd sat beside Shane in silence and flipped to a clean sheet, noticing you were going to need a new book soon- you'd almost filled every page, front and back. You didn't want to think about how many of them were of Shane, and how he must have seen that while he was hiding it from you. 

Not that he'd admit that was what he'd been doing with it, damn him. 

"How's this thing going to go?" Shane added. 

Rick sighed. "I don't know, man." 

"Well, what'd he say?" 

"Shane," you muttered, scrubbing at your eyes. "Give him a chance, would you?" 

"We're negotiating," Rick said when Shane waited. 

"Oh Jesus." You looked at Rick, found him shooting you irritated eyes. "Clock's ticking." 

"No, it's not. That barn is secure. We didn't even know about it till this morning," he snapped. 

"She's right, Rick. We know about it now. We know there's over a dozen walkers in there, about a stone's throw from where we sleep. From where Carl and Lori and Ace sleep, man," Shane started in, his voice getting harder and harder with each word. 

"Once more, despite all evidence of its futility: Ace can take care of herself," you interrupted. "But other than that, Shane's right. We need to go in there and clear it out." 

"Or we need to just go," Shane agreed, standing and pulling you to your feet with him. 

You shoved your sketchbook under your arm and your pencil behind your ear, watching the brewing argument as Rick refused to do either of those things and Shane asked why not until they were both talking over each other, repeating the same things over and over. 

"We need our guns," Shane finally said, breaking the loop of the argument. 

"No, we don't need our guns, man, come on-" 

"Why do you want to stay here when it's not safe?" Shane asked, and you heard- under the hardass tone he was developing- the confusion and worry. "It's our family, brother; we gotta keep them safe." 

"We can make it safe," Rick insisted. 

His tone had shifted slightly, though, anger crackling harder under the surface and grabbing your attention. He glared at Shane, insisting he could make it safe over Shane's protests. 

"Lori's pregnant!" Rick finally snapped out.

Your eyes went wide and Shane froze. Holy shit, you had not expected that one. Lori was- Jesus, you thought. 

Shane looked pale as fuck, and you reached for his hand in concern. He ran a hand over his head as Rick insisted that you needed to stay. 

Yeah, of course you did, you thought. Hershel was a doctor, and Lori was going to need a doctor. 

You tried not to think about sharp, cramping pain; whimpering in the dark and Daryl asking you what was wrong, or a doctor's cool, dispassionate voice delivering life-altering information to an angry seventeen year old.

"We need our guns," Shane insisted, voice raw. 

"I can work this out," Rick snapped, and turned and began to stalk angrily away. He paused and half turned. "You good?" 

"Yeah," Shane said immediately, but he sure as hell didn't look it. His hand was loose and trembled slightly in yours, and you looked between him and his best friends' back, confused. 

"Lori's havin' a baby, man. Congrats," Shane said. 

"Yeah," Rick muttered, continuing on his way. 

Shane turned to you when you called his name, his hand over his mouth. "Ace, that- Ace, that baby's mine." 

You dropped his hand and took a step back, mind going completely blank. "What?"


	37. Lie #37: "You Were Never Very Good At It" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
pregnancy  
mentions of unprotected sex  
mentions of (potential) STD's  
brief mention of rape/assault, police chases, drug addiction, and death

"What?" Ace said, her voice faint and shocked, as she backed away from him. 

Shane ran a hand over his head, licking his lips as he tried to find some words. "I, ah. Lori and I, uh-" 

She held up a hand to stop him, shaking her head slightly. "Yeah, I get the picture. Shit, Shane. Why didn't you- never mind. I don't- Uh, when did you.." 

She trailed off, looking anywhere but at his face, and Shane scoffed. "The minute Rick walked out of that goddamn truck, that's when. Fuck, Slugger, what do you-" 

"Don't," she said firmly, holding up a hand. "Just don't. I need a minute to process this, and I'd say you need to- to go have a chat with Lori." 

Shane reached for her, knowing from the ball of lead in his gut and the look on her face that he'd fucked this up big time, by not telling her sooner. Problem was, he didn't understand exactly why, and that pissed him off. 

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," he muttered. He slammed a hand on the tractor as he turned and stalked away from her to go find Lori. 

Who was apparently carrying his baby. Holy fucking hell. Holy fucking hell, Lori was pregnant, and it was his baby, and Shane knew from Rick's sharp 'you good?' that Rick knew. Which meant either he'd figured it out, Andrea told him, or Lori had. 

Shane was betting Lori, and he was willing to bet the damn woman hadn't told him it was her fucking idea. Jesus Christ. 

He glanced back once to see Ace standing where he'd left her, staring out over the field with her arms wrapped around stomach tightly. 

Shit. Shane could feel his whole world imploding and he didn't have the foggiest idea how to stop it. 

Lori, thankfully, was away from the others when he found her, chopping carrots with a grim ferocity that confirmed she had been the one to tell Rick. 

"Lori," he said quietly, dropping into a crouch in front of her. "I thought he was dead." 

She glared at him and whacked the head off another carrot, and Shane resisted the urge to tell her to watch her fingers. That would certainly get things off to the right start, wouldn't it? 

"I thought he was dead, and that's the only- the only reason. I want to make sure you know that, and know that I'm- I'm not lookin' to have you back, Lor, except as family. Like it was before." 

"Shane-" she started, and he held up a hand, not looking her in her eyes. 

"Please. Lori. You, Carl, Rick- you're my family. You always have been. You know Rick's a brother to me, see? Not like a brother, Lori, he is a brother. And if- if it's his baby, and you can tell me you know that for sure, right here and now, we ain't gonna talk about it again." He did look at her, to see if she could do that. Put this to rest right now and he'd let her. 

Her eyes were wide, her face pale, and she opened her mouth and closed it again as her eyes shifted away from him. 

"That's what I thought. So that means, even more than would be the case anyway because I'm Carl's Uncle Shane no matter what- no matter what you and Rick think. That means your baby is my family, too. That's all I want, Lor. I just want to take care of my family." 

"Rick takes care of us, Shane. You don't need to," she snapped. 

He shook his head with a sigh. "When, Lori? When has Rick taken care of you since this whole damn thing started?" 

This was not the argument he wanted to be having. It wasn't. Hell, he didn't want to be having any kind of argument. He just wanted her promise that this baby, if it was his, would be his. 

"The night of the fish fry! Rick saved us!" she said, waving the knife around. 

Shane almost took it from her when she waved it by his nose, but he stopped himself just in time. That was apparently all the self-control he had left, because the words coming out were not what he'd intended. 

"See, no. That was me too. Rick joined in at the last minute, because he wasn't there. He wasn't there because he decided it'd be smart to take half our manpower and go look for a- for a drug dealer!" 

"That's your little girlfriend's brother, you know," Lori snapped. 

Shane shot her a look. "Don't be a bitch, Lori. You were never very good at it." 

Her eyes went wide, and Shane knew that was it. Any chance at this conversation going well had just ended, but he wasn't going to let her talk about Ace with that tone and get away with it. He sighed and ran a hand over his head again, then pulled his hat from his back pocket and turned it in his hands. 

"I just want my baby to be mine," he said softly, trying anyway. 

Lori scoffed. "It's Rick's." 

"Now, we both know that ain't true, or you'd have said so first," Shane countered, staring at the ground. "It's mine and you know it." 

"Even if it is yours, it's Rick's," Lori snapped. 

Shane sighed, pressed his fingers to his eyes, and nodded. He rose and started to walk away, but stopped. "I hope you told him the truth, at least. I did not do this, Lori. I didn't. Watch your fingers with that knife, you almost sliced to tip off one earlier." 

The Grimes family were hosting a barbecue and Shane had been invited, along with all of Lori's school mom and book club friends and a few of the neighborhood assholes who lived on the block. Shane went because Rick had begged him to, saying if he didn't come, Rick would be answering 'cop questions' all day on his own. 

Shane had asked just why in the hell Rick thought he wanted to answer 'cop questions' all day with him, but Rick had turned that pleading look on Shane and here he was drinking a beer and hiding with Rick at the grill at four in the afternoon on a Saturday he could have been spending in Atlanta- as Ace kept reminding him when he complained. 

\-- Hey, suck it up, buttercup. I invited you to the gallery first, but you dropped me like a hot potato. 

Shane scowled at his phone. 

\-- YOU suck it up. You didn't see Rick's eyes, Slugger. 

\-- You haven't seen this art, Dickhead. Maria's got an incredible guest artist this month, down from NYC. You're missing out. 

Shane sighed. Thing was, the gallery wasn't really his scene either, but hanging out listening to Ace talk about why what he was looking at was so great and sipping halfway decent wine- Maria didn't cheap out on her monthly showcases, that's for sure- sounded a hell of a lot better than listening to six bitchy school moms or their insensitive husbands. The women couldn't stop talking about their fellow moms who weren't there and the husbands couldn't stop asking him and Rick if they'd killed anyone or how often they fired their weapons on the job. 

Shane was about to answer the next person who asked him that with the story from three days before about the rapist junkie who'd assaulted a teenage girl in an alley and lead them on a six hour chase with three other counties. He figured that one- which had ended with Shane hanging out the window of his and Rick's car and shooting the bastard's tires, the car hitting a tree, and the addict dying with a branch through his throat, fun times, man, right?- would be a great big hit with this crowd. 

\-- Yeah, I believe it. How the hell does Rick do this shit? These people are so fucking boring.

He shoved his phone in his pocket when Rick called his name, looking up to see Rick holding a plate of patties and some tongs. 

"Want to man the grill for a bit, brother?" Rick asked, giving Shane that look that said he knew how close Shane was to losing it. 

Shane grimaced. "Naw, man, you know what? I tried, but I can't-" he shook his head and set his mostly untouched beer down. "I can't get that chase off my mind, man. And these guys keep-" 

Rick nodded and set his shit down. "Yeah, I get it. Heading to Atlanta?" 

Shane hadn't been, not really. He'd been thinking of going home, taking a shower as close to the temperature of Mt. Vesuvius as he could get it, and drinking on the couch with what Ace liked to call his 'latest episode of sports'. But as soon as Rick said it, his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Shane pulled it out, opened the message, and smiled. 

Her navy blue hair was all piled on her head, she'd done her eyes up with mile-long lashes and artsy, smokey shadow, and she'd painted her lips some shade of red so dark it was almost black. And she was in a dress, something he thought he'd seen maybe a handful of times in the five years or so he'd known her. 

"Yeah," he said slowly, starting to smile. "Yeah, I think I am. Tell Lori I'm sorry. Carl too." 

Rick nodded and slapped him on the back. "You know, you could just ask that girl out. She ain't with her ex anymore, right? The on again off again one? Maybe if you make a move now, he'll be off again permanently." 

Shane rolled his eyes, already playing with his keys. "It ain't like that, man." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're just friends. Get out of here." 

Shane headed for the gate with a wave. If he broke a few speed limits, he'd probably have time to spiff up enough to match her. She was heading over early to give Maria a hand with the set up like she usually did, but the thing started at 6:30 and it was heading toward 4:30 now.... He could get there by seven, he figured, if he moved fast.

\-- You look amazing. Still need that date? 

\-- Don't play with me, Walsh. I'm gonna get tipsy and make some poor decisions if I go alone!

He laughed, shoving the key in the ignition and pulling the door closed behind him as he typed. 

\-- Well, alright then, I'll leave you to it. 

He waited a beat and fired off another message to her, using one of her stupid winking face things at the beginning to show he'd been teasing.

\--If I push I can meet you there at seven. 

\-- Get off the phone and DRIVE then, Dickhead!

He went looking for Ace again, because he wasn't about to let this shit fester between them. He was done with that. Shane Walsh was turning over a new leaf, where he was going to be honest and open with the people he cared about. 

Since he'd decided yesterday that she was his girl and he was going to convince her that was a good idea, he figured he'd better start with her and start with this. 

He didn't get what she was so bent out of shape about, he thought as he stalked around camp looking for her. It wasn't like they'd been- it wasn't like they'd started sleeping together when he was with Lori. And he hadn't come onto Lori, goddamn it. Plus, Shane wouldn't have been running around behind Ace's back. Didn't she know that by now? 

Shit, he'd always been a one-woman-at-a-time kind, even it'd only been for a short time.

It hit him as he saw her striding into the woods. He rolled his eyes and followed her, knowing damn well the woman would only have her knife on her and not a fucking gun. What the hell was she doing? 

They'd slept together twice now, and Shane all the sudden realized they hadn't exactly been practicing safe sex either, much like him and Lori. 

The thought was almost enough to draw him up short, but now he really needed to catch up to her. No wonder she was pissed and freaking out. He'd gotten a woman pregnant in the fucking apocalypse, and they'd been sleeping together too, so that worry had to be on her mind, right? 

Or she might be thinking about STD's, which was slightly insulting but he wouldn't have blamed her in the least. All she had were the facts available, so how was she to know that going without protection was a new wave of stupidity brought on by the end of the world and not just Shane's mode of operations? And Lord fucking knew, Ace knew how many women he'd slept with in his time. 

Shane grimaced as he wondered how uncomfortable this conversation was going to be and where the hell she was heading. They hadn't spent a lot of time in the swamps, after all, and what could be so important to have her hiking out here now?

"Just give me the guns, Dale." Ace's voice reached him from up ahead, sounding pissed. 

Shane ducked around a tree and there she was, hands on her hips as Dale got ready to hide Rick's sheriff bag full of guns in a hollow tree. Dale looked vaguely guilty, and he shook his head in refusal. 

Neither one of them had noticed Shane, and he leaned against a tree to watch Ace take the annoying old man down. He'd been all up in Shane's business when he got back from gun training with Andrea, accusing him of all sorts of shit- drawing on Rick, killing Otis, sleeping with Andrea. The fact that only one of those was untrue was irrelevant to Shane, since Dale didn't have the first fucking clue the circumstances of the others. 

"You don't have any right to hide them. They aren't yours," Ace insisted. 

Shane found himself smiling at the balls on his Slugger. She followed a man armed with an entire camp's worth of guns into the woods alone, with just a knife, to tell him off because they weren't his guns to take. 

"Imagine if you applied your tracking skills to finding Sophia, like your brother," Dale shot back at her. 

She snorted. "I'm a shit tracker. You're just obvious. Besides, Sophia's dead. We all know it. Except maybe my brother." 

Shane hated the way she said that, tone flat and hard and full of pain, but damn did it do him good to have someone in agreement with him. He settled in to enjoy the showdown, knowing the old man didn't stand a chance when Shane's girl got pissed. Hell, nobody did. 

"Just give me the guns, Dale. Unless you plan on using that rifle over your shoulder, you aren't going to be able to stop me from taking them," she said with an arrogant overconfidence he'd seen in her eyes when Daryl got shot. 

"Jesus, you're as crazy as he is, aren't you? You know he killed Otis, right? He's going to get us all killed eventually- you first, since you're always at his side. He's no good for you, sweetheart," Dale told her. 

Ace snorted. "I'm crazier than Shane, let's be honest. I don't give a shit if he did kill Otis. Just give me the guns." 

"No," Dale said. "You'll have to fight me for them." 

"Oh, I don't think she will. Will she?" Shane called, pushing off the tree and coming to Ace's side. 

She glanced at him, surprised to see him there, and he winked at her. "Hey, Slugger. Crazier than me, huh? Well, I'd say old Dale here, he isn't gonna want to take us both on unless he does decided to use that rifle. Even then, he won't get us both. But he won't even try- will you Dale?" 

Dale let out a defeated sigh and handed over the bag.


	38. Lie #38: "You're Right Man, It Is Enough" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
character death (cannon)

Shane had been right; listening to Ace talk about all the ways the art he was staring at was groundbreaking was a hell of a lot better than answering endless questions about his gun. The wine was decent, the finger foods- sorry, canapes- were good, the other people wandering around were only reasonably snooty, and Shane didn't actually need Ace to tell him why the art was good because he could see it for himself. But he liked listening to her, and he liked how her face lit up as she talked. 

She'd been looking sad a lot lately, he thought. Damn, he hadn't really realized it until he walked in the door and she'd broken off mid-conversation with Maria and the artist to toss herself into his arms with a laugh and a kiss on the cheek. He'd held on for longer than he really meant to, but she'd held on back just as hard. It was the first time he'd seen her in awhile- weeks before that guy died in the crash- and he'd missed her. Seemed she'd missed him too, and they both needed this.

Everyone and their third cousin had assumed they were a couple, and she and Shane had finally stopped bothering to correct them. 

"Besides," he'd said as he pulled out his phone and held it up to take a picture of the two of them. She'd leaned her head on his shoulder with a glass of wine in her hand while they contemplated the art, and Shane couldn't resist. "We are the best-looking couple here, that's for sure." 

He got one of them both smiling into the camera, one of her laughing at that comment, and one of her pressing her lips to his cheek with her eyes closed. Shane had done his best to dress to her level, and from the way they were turning heads now, strolling along the street arm in arm, he thought maybe he'd come close. 

She'd sweet-talked him into heading out to look for trouble after Maria had ordered them out. Shane didn't know what kind of nonsense she wanted to get up to tonight, but he figured somewhere along the way he was going to end up running. 

They usually did, when Ace was in charge. 

She linked her arm through his while they wandered downtown, flashing him a grin. "We just look so pretty; it'd be a shame to waste it. I bet, if we went to a high school reunion right now- not mine, but someone else's- we could get crowned king and queen." 

"I was homecoming king," Shane said with a laugh, and that's how he found himself breaking into her high school's football field at two in the damn morning. Well, there'd been a couple drinks involved first, but Shane had lost as soon as he opened his damn mouth. Technically, they were trespassing, but Shane couldn't quite bring himself to care. Not when she'd clung to his arm and batted those smoke-covered eyes at him.

"Come on, 22; I bet I'm better at sports than you," she teased, swinging around the goal post and heading into the end zone. 

Shane shook his head at her as she did a touchdown dance, kicking off her heels and tossing them toward the goal. "It's not just 'sports', Ace, you do get that right? There's more than one. Besides, you're in a dress." 

"Pffft. You threatened, Dickhead? Pick a sport, I'll beat you at it." She grinned at him, spreading her arms wide and twirling. "I hated sports in high school. I mean, mostly I just hated high school. But sports were not my thing." 

"How could you not love it?" he asked, amused as hell by her rambling. She never really talked about the past, he thought. "Friday night lights, smell of the grass, fans cheerin' you on on your way to glory!" 

"Crowds of people who hated your guts, teenage boy sweat, getting solicited behind the bleachers," she countered wryly, and Shane winced. "Not everyone was Mr. All- American, 22. And the cheerleaders- you liked them, right? Cheerleaders were the worst. I don't get the point of them either." 

"I may have enjoyed a cheerleader or two in my day," he admitted. "Short skirts and girls urging you to do great things? What the hell's not to like?" He leaned against the goal post and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her as she rolled her eyes. 

"Seriously?" She struck a ridiculous pose, shoving her boobs out and putting her hands on her hips. "Be aggressive! Be, be aggressive! Be aggressive!" 

Shane laughed at her exaggerated movements, shaking his head at her. "Jesus, Ace, keep it down, would you? We can get arrested for this." 

"We can get arrested for a lot of things, Deputy Walsh. Come on- Be, be, be aggress-" 

"Fine, I'll be aggressive," he cut her off, running straight at her. She yelped and laughed, scrambling backwards and into a flat sprint across the field. 

Slugger was quick on her damn feet, changing directions on a dime and staying just ahead of him until he put on that extra bit of speed that had made him a star quarterback. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tossing her over his shoulder as he turned and headed back the way they'd come. She laughed even harder as he started for the end zone, holding onto his jacket and yelling 'faster, faster!' 

Thank God they were almost there when the flashlight swept the field, or Shane would have had some awkward explanations to make at work the next morning. 

"Shit, Ace, why does this happen every time I hang out with you?" he complained as she scooped up her shoes and grabbed his hand, using those fast feet to make their getaway before Atlanta PD got called. 

She shot him a grin when they reached his Jeep, both of them out of breath and grinning. "'Cause I'm crazier than you, Dickhead. That was fun and you know it." 

"Damn it," he muttered, and started the engine. 

She was right. 

Ace walked beside him, her face closed off as she copied her brother and chewed on her thumbnail. Shane reached over and grabbed her hand, tugging it gently away from her mouth and keeping his fingers twinned with hers. 

"Ace, I-" 

"So we have the guns," she interrupted him. 

Shane sighed. Every goddamn time he tried to talk to this woman, she deflected. When was she going to realize Shane wasn't going anywhere and she could trust him? Shit. 

"Yeah, we have the guns," he agreed. "Ace-" 

"Shut up, Dickhead. We'll talk it out, I promise. I'm not pissed about you and Lori, ok? Jesus. We have the guns," she repeated, gesturing at the bag on his shoulder. She'd stopped dead in the field, and Shane turned toward her. 

Oh shit, she had that look that said they were about to do something crazy, stupid, and possibly illegal. 

"We're gonna talk about a lot of things, Slugger, and real fuckin' soon, you hear me? I'm tired of this thing where you change the subject all the time and I keep fucking up because I don't know what's going on with you," he shot back, one last vain attempt to talk now, damn it. 

She shoved a hand through her hair with an annoyed huff that was a direct copy of one of his moves, down to the way she shifted her weight on her feet as she did it. Shane couldn't help it; it made him smile. 

"Can you focus? This isn't about our relationship drama. Life or death here, Shane, just- Fucking hell. We have the guns. You and me. There's no one else around. Catch my drift here, asshole," she said urgently, leaning toward him with a pointed look at the barn off to the side. 

Shane looked from the barn to her and back. "Are you insane?" 

"Yes, yes- crazier than you; we established that with Dale," she snapped. "It's not safe, we can do it from the damn hayloft, and what's to stop us? The old man can't make us leave if we just don't fucking leave. The only one of them who's anything resembling a threat is Maggie, and she's all goo-goo eyed for Glenn anyway." 

Shane stared at her, surprised by the ruthless pragmatism he was hearing from her. "That- that's talk that'll get you on Rick's shit list." 

"Easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Come on, Shane- Carl's down there, Lori's pregnant. Carol's the sweetest woman in the world, but she can't take care of herself for an instant. Not yet anyway. My brother's got stitches in his side and is determined to get himself killed looking for Sophia. Andrea's a hot headed bitch- by the way, did you sleep with her? No, never mind, we'll talk about that later- and Dale's a bleeding heart. I mean, he's not wrong, but in this shit? Can't afford that. Let's just get it done," she insisted. 

Shane pulled her close, hauled her up by her elbows, and kissed her hard on the mouth. "You are perfect, you know that?" he told her as he let her go to sling the bag off his shoulder. "What do you want? Rifle? Shotgun?" 

She was all rosy-cheeked and dazed looking, which sure did wonders for that ego she kept refusing to stroke, but she shook her head. "No, I suck with those. Just give me the Glock; I can handle it." 

"You know, you claim you suck with a lot of things, Slugger, and I really do question your definition of the term," he said with a grin. He handed her his Glock and pulled his shotgun out, slinging the bag back over his shoulder again as they both started toward the barn. "For the record, I did not sleep with Andrea. She grabbed my dick and offered, more or less, but I said no." 

"Oh," Ace's voice came soft and considering. Shane glanced at her, amused at the way she was pointedly not looking at him, and started to think maybe convincing her they were made for each other wouldn't be that hard after all. 

"What the hell?" she muttered, looking confused. "Shane." 

He followed her gaze toward the tree line behind the barn, and he stared. "What the hell is right. Come on." 

"What the hell is this?" Shane exploded, dropping the bag of guns to the ground when they intercepted Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy outside the barn. Rick and Hershel had two dead bastards on lead poles, and- 

Shane ran a hand over his head in disbelief. 

"Rick, what's going on?" Ace asked from beside him. 

Shane glanced over and found her holding his Glock rock-steady on one of the bastards, the one Rick was trying to add to the number of threats in the fucking barn. 

Shane scoffed and gestured. "What's it look like, Ace? They're collecting more of their fucking time bombs to keep not far from where we sleep." 

"Ace?" Daryl's voice had Shane glancing back to see the others running toward them, the whole group gathering. "What the fuck's goin' on here?" 

"Shane, just back off!" Rick snarled as Shane stalked toward him. 

"Why do you have guns?" Hershel asked. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm interested in that as well," Rick started to say, and Ace laughed grimly. 

"Because Dale tried to hide them and this is a goddamn threat," she answered, no trace of guilt in her tone. "Dar, hit the bag. Get everyone armed." 

"Can you just stop?" Maggie asked frantically, and Rick was looking from Shane's glare to whatever Ace and her brother were doing. 

"Rick. You see what you're doing, brother? You see?" he pleaded, knowing from the look in Rick's eyes that it wasn't going to work. But he had to try; had to attempt to get Rick to see reason. 

Shane dropped the shotgun and started to pace, unable to contain himself when Rick didn't answer him. "You see- you see what they're holdin' on to?" he yelled. 

"I see who I'm holding on to!" Hershel shot back. 

"No, man, you don't." 

"Shane, just let us do this, then we can talk." Rick was going for reasonable, but Shane was beyond that now. 

His girl was on his side, and Lori and Carl slept in that camp, as well as all these other people Shane had taken under his protection. Then Rick came along and suddenly he was the man in charge, and Shane was grateful for that. Shane had wanted that; had ached to have his brother back to help him out and take some of the damn weight. 

But Rick was wrong, and he couldn't see it. Rick was going to get them killed if he did this waiting game; it was only a matter of time. Shane could see it, and Ace could see it. It was time for direct action, not diplomacy, and direct action was what Shane was good at. It was what had kept each person in their group alive this long- except maybe Daryl and Ace, but then again, Daryl had a rifle trained on one walker and Ace had his Glock trained on the other, so they didn't have a problem with the direct path either, did they? 

"What do you want to talk about, Rick?" he yelled. He paced back toward Ace, and both she and her brother lifted their guns as he passed.

"Stop fucking up my shot, asshole," Ace hissed at him, and Shane paused beside her. 

"These things ain't sick. They're not people. They're dead. Ain't gonna feel nothing for them, 'cause all they do, they kill! These things right here- they're the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis, and they're gonna kill all of us!" he screamed it at Rick, at the group he turned to scan. 

Ace winced a little. "Might be a bit harsh, but I agree with the basic sentiment. Rick, you were in Atlanta. You were at the CDC. You know." 

Shane turned to look at Rick, and for a moment he thought it would work. Rick was looking at Ace, listening to her calm and reasonable tone, and Shane remembered again how good Ace was at getting people to do what she wanted. She might even be a match for Rick fucking Grimes at his stubborn best. 

Then Rick shook his head. "This is Hershel's-" 

Shane scoffed. "Yeah, this is Hershel's land. Hey, let me ask you somethin', man, could a living, breathing person, could they walk away from this?" 

He took the Glock from Ace, who gave him a confused look. Shane whirled, and even as Rick yelled, he put three rounds in the walker's chest. He kept going, adding two more to the heart, the lungs, and still it snarled and tried to come after him. 

"Shane! Enough!" Rick yelled, and yeah. Shane agreed with that. 

"You're right, man. It is enough." He dropped the walker with a bullet between the eyes and looked at Ace. She'd picked up his shotgun and held it with the same relaxed competence as the Glock, and while she gave him a look that clearly told him he'd be getting a talking to for his dramatics later, she looked like she dead-on agreed with him at least. That was good enough for him. 

"Rick, it ain't like it was before," he yelled, turning back to meet Rick's furious look. "Now, if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you gotta fight for it! I'm talking about fighting, right here, right now." 

"Dickhead, I didn't mean- oh fuck." Ace's deadpanned expletive had Shane whirling around to see the barn doors shaking and rattling with the weight of the walkers hitting them. 

Shane shook his head, turning back to the group. "You see? They're comin' after us! We gotta get in there and-" 

"Shane, the wall!" Ace snapped, right before Shane heard weathered wood snap in two. 

He spun, Glock coming up even as she hauled his shotgun to her shoulder. The doors held fine, but the wall on one side of them cracked and broke and a dead guy in overalls shoved his gruesome way through. 

Shane dropped him with a head shot and waited for the rest. Ace appeared at his shoulder as more of the boards cracked and groaned and walkers came busting through. They didn't have any choice now, Shane thought, and turned as Ace fired, muttered a curse when she hit a shoulder instead of the head, and fired again. 

His eyes met Rick's as he dropped the walker his partner, still, for some reason, held on the snare. 

Shane looked at Ace when they finally stopped coming. "Crap with it, huh?" he muttered, trading her the Glock for his shotgun. 

She shrugged. "I can hit the body. We'll have to check them; I know some of those weren't head shots. Shane-" 

"Yeah," he muttered, running a hand down her arm. "I was an asshole. I know. I'll fix it." 

Daryl snorted from Ace's other side. "Good luck, man." 

Shane turned to face the music and found Hershel and his people devastated and sobbing, Rick looking like Shane had ripped the world out from under his feet, and Lori wrapped around Carl. Dale wandered up the road, late to the party, and Shane ran a hand over his head as he tried to come up with words. 

Ace's hand latched onto his arm and she managed a choked-out noise that sounded vaguely like his name. Rick's eyes went wide as Shane turned, seeing Ace pale as a ghost and with her eyes huge and blank. She stared at the barn, beyond him, and Daryl caught Carol as she started to run, hitting the ground with a grunt and a wince of his own. 

The world was in slow motion as Shane turned to see what Ace was staring at. 

Sophia came stumbling out of the barn toward him. 

"Damn it," he whispered. "Oh, goddamn it." 

Ace dropped the Glock and made another of those strangled sounds that sent a wave of panic through Shane, turning away from the stumbling, shambling little girl. Shane caught her arm, pulling her into him and tucking her face into his neck. 

"Don't look. Ace, don't look," he whispered, glancing desperately over the group to see who could take the shot. Shane couldn't, not with Ace in his arms, and Dixon had Carol, so it'd have to be- 

Rick's eyes met Shane's as he came striding forward, pulling the Python from his holster with something missing from his eyes. Shane felt the loss of it to his very soul, and even though it was what he'd been pushing for, Shane knew he'd regret that lost idealism to the end of his days. 

"I got it," Rick said under his breath as he took a few steps toward what used to be Sophia, aimed, and fired once. 

Ace jerked in Shane's arms like she'd been the one shot, and Shane dropped his shotgun to hold onto her better, whispering nonsense into her hair. He closed his eyes, but he could still see Sophia on the ground, and he honestly didn't know if he was comforting Ace, or if she was comforting him.


	39. Lie #39: "We Can Just Be Friends. Drop The Benefits." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
teenage pregnancy  
miscarriage/pregnancy loss/infertility  
past child abuse  
past domestic violence/abuse  
past emotional/verbal abuse  
mentions of unsafe sex and STDs

Your hands shook as you waited in the bathroom, perched on the edge of the tub and chewing on your thumb in a nervous habit you needed to break, damn it. 

You forced your thumb down and laced your fingers instead, leg jiggling as you glanced at the alarm clock you'd brought in with you for the eight hundredth time. Two minutes to go. Damn it. 

Thank God no one was home. It would be negative. You told yourself that in a soothing voice as you shoved to your feet and paced the two tiny steps in each direction you could go between the shower and the door. It'd be negative. You weren't going to become one of the dumbass statistics in your neighborhood who'd fucked a boy you didn't want to fuck and chained yourself to this life forever as a result. You weren't, damn it. 

"Ace! Ya home?" 

You stifled a groan and leaned your forehead against the wall, checking the clock again. One minute. 

"Yeah, I'm in the bathroom!" you called back to Daryl. 

"Shit. Hurry up! I need a shower before I go back out." 

"Give me a goddamn minute!" you screamed it, rolling your eyes. "I'm sure your tramp girlfriend can wait a single fucking minute!" 

There was a pause as you glanced at the clock again. Thirty seconds.

"Jesus, ya a bitch today. Ya get yer period early or something? Fuck," he complained from right outside the door. 

You snatched up the little stick, closed your eyes, and prayed. "Or something," you muttered, and turned it over. "Fuck. Fuck! Fuck me!" 

You sat down heavily on the side of the tub and put your head in your hands, cursing Mark Anderson's fucking name, fucking booze, and fucking penis viciously in order to keep the tears from spilling. How in the hell had- 

"Fuck!" you yelled again. 

"Sis? You ok?" Daryl knocked on the door lightly. 

You didn't answer him, because you couldn't. You tried to muffle the sob, but you couldn't do that either. 

"I'm openin' the door so you'd better be dressed and shit," Daryl informed you as he did. "Ace, what's wrong?" 

You held up the little stick wordlessly, closing your eyes so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. 

"Oh, fuck," he said with feeling. 

You poked at Daryl's side while he scowled and protested that he was fine. 

"Yeah, I know you are, tough guy, but your stitches might not be," you informed him wearily. "And I don't think Hershel's in any mood to help one of us out, do you?" 

Daryl rolled his eyes but he stopped muttering, shooting you a look instead as you shoved impatiently at him so you could check the exit wound. "You ok, sis?" 

"You popped a couple back here, but I think you'll be ok without 'em. Long as you don't do nothing too damn dumb," you answered him. 

Daryl sat up and grabbed your hand when you started to climb to your feet. "Hell naw. Ya sound like me, means you need to talk. What's goin' on?" 

"Seriously?" You shot him a look and gestured vaguely toward- well, the fucking world. "Come on." 

"Ace." 

You sighed and plopped down beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder. He tensed like he wanted to shake you off but didn't, and you knew he needed your support as badly as you needed his. He'd been so determined to find her and bring her back. 

"I didn't know she was in there," you whispered. 

"Why the hell would ya?" 

"I convinced Shane he and I needed to clear the barn out together. We were going to, when- when Rick came out of the woods." 

Daryl snorted. "Shoulda let me in on that shit." 

You rubbed at your eyes. "I would have, but we had the guns because I caught Dale trying to hide them, and you have some holes in you that aren't supposed to be there." 

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered. He started picking at the skin of his fingers, and you thought about Shane taking your hand to stop you whenever you did the same. 

"Shane got Lori pregnant," you blurted in a low voice. 

Daryl went still. "Shit." 

You nodded against his shoulder. "I'm pissed about it." 

"He fuckin' her and you at the same time?" 

You shot upright, eyes wide, and stared at Daryl in alarm. He looked back, raising one eyebrow in insistent question. "Jesus fucking Christ! No! It's just-" 

"She's pregnant," he finished when you cut off. "Ace, we ain't talked about since it happened, except when you said something about the Cherokee rose the other day. You ever, I don't know, talk to somebody else? Professionals, maybe?" 

It was your turn to deliver the patented Dixon scoff. "No. I don't need- well, hell, I do need therapy, all three of us do; but I don't think therapy covers that shit. No, it's not that she's pregnant; I'm happy for her. I'm happy for them. It's just- It's just- fuck. I don't know. We don't talk about anything, me and him. And if I'm being honest, it's not from lack of trying on his fault." 

"Yeah, you're a close mouthed sonnuva bitch," Daryl agreed. "Fuckin' Will taught ya that. Taught all us that." 

It sucked that you knew he was right. 

"I'm glad he's dead," you muttered. "I didn't- you see him again? Before?" 

Daryl's laugh was harsh. "Naw. You lit out, I did too. Ain't no way I was gonna take care of that fucker for the rest of his life, not after what he'd done to ya. I hope he rotted in his own fuckin' filth. Merle saw him, once. Came back and got so damn high he thought the CIA was after him an' I had to knock his ass out to get him to stop tryin' to shoot the ceiling fan."

"Had to?" you muttered. 

Daryl shot you an amused half-smile. "Didn't say I didn't enjoy it." 

"Sophia was so small," you said. "So small and so scared of everything." 

Daryl sighed and wrapped his arm around you again. "She ain't you. Weren't you." 

"She sure seemed like me. Her daddy-" 

"Stop," Daryl cut you off. "Won't lie, she reminded me of ya some, on the surface. Part of why-" 

He shook his head, rubbed his hand over your arm, and waved his other hand vaguely. "I wanted to do right by her, 'cause of that. She reminded me of you, and of me. All of us. Abused kids gotta stick together, right? But look, Ace- I know ya think you're the weakest of us, but that's only 'cause it's what Will told ya." 

You scoffed again. "Sure. I freeze, Dar. You and Merle, you fight back. I always just rolled over and let him- let both of them, 'cause I did it with Mal too, even when it made me sick- do whatever they wanted. Took the punishment like I'd earned it. 'Cause it was easier and I'm not worth- I mean, nobody wants damaged goods anyway, right?" 

"Fuck that shit," Daryl snarled. "Don't. Don't spout off his crap. You know he's just- fuck." 

"Everything ok?" 

You looked up as Shane walked into your new campsite. Daryl had moved your tent and your gear way out to the broken-down chimney where you and Shane had argued a few days before, and you hadn't yet asked him why. 

You offered Shane a small smile, scrubbing a hand over your eyes again even as Daryl snorted at you. 

"Yeah, we're good. Sorry for melting down on you earlier," you said, embarrassment creeping in at the way you'd lost it on him. 

"Stop that," he ordered absently. "You're allowed to feel things, Ace. Hershel's disappeared. We're pretty sure he's headed to a bar in town to get his drunk on. Glenn and Rick are goin' after him." 

You scoffed, climbing to your feet with Daryl. "Good for them. Bring me some supplies; I'll get the whole damn camp drunk tonight. We could use it." 

Daryl shoved lightly at your shoulder. "Shut up, sis. You going?" he asked Shane. 

"Naw, I'm covering camp. Rick thinks I've done enough damage," Shane said bitterly. You bit your lip at the guilt in his voice, knowing it wasn't his fault. 

It was yours. You'd been the one with the bright idea to take matters into your own hands, and now Shane was going to feel guilty over Sophia, over Beth's mom, over Hershel's reaction. All because you'd wanted to avoid conversation with him and take care of the problem for once instead of waiting for a solution.

"Good," Daryl grunted. "Stay here. Right here; both of ya. Fuckin' talk, damn it. Idiots," he muttered, scooping up his crossbow and stalking into the trees. "Talk!" 

Shane glanced at you, worry and amusement warring in his face. You rolled your eyes at Daryl and gestured at the camp around you. 

"So we moved, apparently. I wasn't consulted." 

Shane gave a half laugh and stepped closer to you, running a hand over the back of his head. "He's right. We do need to talk." 

You made another face and Shane's eyes got sad. 

"Sweetheart, is it really that hard to talk to me?" he asked softly. 

You blinked at him, melting inside at the wistfulness in his tone. He really wanted you to, and you kept dodging him. "Damn it. That's not fair, you know." 

He shrugged one shoulder. "It's a genuine question, Slugger. You're a master at evading, delaying. I can't help but wonder if it's because you don't want to talk, or because you don't want to talk to me." 

"Fucking hell. Sit down." You gestured irritably toward the log you and Daryl had been using as a chair, plopping back down yourself and reaching for Shane's hand when he sat slowly. "It's not you. It's me. It's one hundred percent me." 

He shifted closer when you took his hand, sliding his fingers through yours and reaching over with the other hand to spin your mom's ring absently on your finger. You smiled faintly and watched his hands on your own as you forced the next part out. 

"I'm sorry for how I reacted to Lori. It wasn't- it's not about you or her or anything like that," you began. 

"I didn't go around having unprotected sex before the world ended," Shane declared firmly over you. "I know it won't help with any pregnancy possibilities, but it maybe it'll help if you're worried about STD's. Don't blame you if you are; you know better than most that I- well, I got around." 

Your lips twitched as you processed that one, wanting to roll your eyes at the vague pride in his tone. "Uh, ok. Yeah, I wasn't worried about that, but thanks for bringing it to mind, Dickhead. I'm not worried about pregnancy either. I can't have kids." 

Shane's eyes, focused firmly on the ground while he'd reassured you he wasn't a complete moron until after the dead started eating people, shot to yours now. You waited, braced for him to say the kinds of things you'd heard since that night in the hospital- waiting to hear that you were broken, worthless, that no man would want you. All you'd be good for was a quick fuck, not marriage or a life together, because a man wanted sons from his woman. 

"Jesus, Ace, I'm sorry," Shane said. "I mean, I think I am. I don't know what to say here." 

You shook your head slightly, trying to banish Will's voice. "No, it's ok. I accepted it a long time ago. I just- kids. They get to me. After the miscarriage, I-" 

"Whoa, Slugger, slow down. Miscarriage?" Shane looked confused as hell and his hand had tightened on yours. "Sweetheart, you gotta act like I don't know anything about you, 'cause honestly- I don't." 

You sighed, shoving your free hand through your hair. "Yeah, that's- that's fair. I was seventeen. I was an idiot. I ended up pregnant. I didn't want it, and I didn't know what I was going to do. Then I-" 

Shane shifted his grip on your hand so he could wrap his arm around you and pull you against him. You sniffed and closed your eyes, heart pounding in your ears. 

"Will got mad," you whispered. "He was drunk. The place wasn't clean enough. I was so damn tired all the time, you know? And crabby, so I- I ran my mouth off at him. Told him if he wanted a home-cooked meal and a clean fucking house, he should get off his ass and do it himself. I was his kid, not his fucking wife. He didn't like that," you said grimly. 

Shane had gone still, his hand on your arm where he'd been running his fingers lightly up and down, froze in place. "Do you- Do you want to tell me more than that?" he asked slowly. 

You shrugged, but it was easier to keep talking now that you'd started. "He backhanded me. I fell- into the kitchen counter; stomach first. Will slapped me around some more, careful not to leave any marks too hard to explain, and forgave me when I apologized with a cold beer. I was in bed a few hours later, woke up to this- this awful cramping, stabbing pain. Daryl called Merle 'cause Will wouldn't have helped even if he hadn't been passed the fuck out cold, and they got me to the hospital. It was too late by that point, though. Doctor told me it was a 'traumatic loss' and some mumbo-jumbo about scar tissue and uterine walls I still don't really understand, and that was that. No kids for Ace." 

"Jesus," Shane whispered. He shifted slightly, curling you closer. "I'm sorry." 

"Is what it is," you said simply. "I don't know that I would have wanted them anyway; and I certainly didn't at the time. But its one thing to chose not to and another to find out something important's been broken and taken out of your hands. That you're broken. Anyway, it's just- it's a sore spot. I wasn't expecting that. And especially not with Lori." 

"You are not broken, Ace. You're anything but," he whispered. You made a non-committal noise, but didn't argue the point. He'd know eventually, if you kept opening up to him about things. Besides, Mal had said that too- at first. 

Though implying Shane was anything like Malcolm Hall was the worst insult in the goddamn world. 

"Lori came on to me. Shortly after you got to the camp," Shane said into the silence. 

You pushed upright to look at him, and he let you. But he didn't let go of you, threading his fingers into your hair so they brushed the base of your neck as he tangled his hand all in it. 

"I never would have- I never looked at her like that. I thought Rick was dead, and she was- she needed something, Ace, and-" 

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, stopping him with your fingers on his lips. "Shane, you don't have to justify it to me. We weren't sleeping together at the time, so you don't owe me any explanations. And if you think I'd believe for a moment that you'd go behind your best friend's back to fuck his wife, you'd be very wrong. You're a good man, Dickhead. Trust me, I know." 

Shane snorted, running his hand over his head. "Yeah, tell Rick that. Pretty sure Lori left out the part where it was her idea." 

"Bitch," you muttered. Then you winced. "Sorry, shouldn't talk that way about the mother of your child." 

"Naw, you should hear her talk about you," he said with a faint smile. 

You blinked. "What's she got against me? Oh. She the jealous type? If I can't have him, no one can?" 

"Hell if I know," Shane said with a shrug. "Honestly, she probably is just a bitch." 

You laughed, but sobered quickly. "Shane?" 

"Hmmm?" he asked, glancing at you. 

"It's ok if you want to be done. With our thing, I mean. We can just be friends. Drop the benefits," you offered. "You've got a lot going on, and I'm- I'm difficult." 

"Shut up," Shane snapped. "You think I don't know that's them talking? You're a handful, yeah, but that ain't a bad thing. You're complex. Interesting. Fascinating. Besides, it's too damn late for us to back off now, anyway." 

"Yeah?" you asked, blushing a little under the glow of warmth from 'fascinating'. "Why's that?" 

Shane snorted. "'Cause we're together, Slugger, that's why." 

You stared at him and he started laughing his ass off at your expression. You scowled, opening your mouth to ask him just what the hell he meant by that. 

Shane slid his fingers along your cheek, leaned in, and kissed you gently, until you leaned into him with a sigh. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. I might have lied to you once or twice," he whispered as he pulled you into him again. 

"Hmm? About what?" you asked, hoping you weren't reading too much into this and knowing it didn't fucking matter; your heart was in his hands no matter what. 

"We ain't better off as friends. You're my girl. Deal with it."


	40. Lie #40: "They're All Back, Safe And Sound" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mild smuttiness

The look on Ace's face was something Shane would carry around with him for the rest of his goddamn life. He'd never seen quite so pure a cross between indignation and stunned happiness before, and he smiled over it again as he washed up for dinner. 

Hershel's kin had decided maybe Shane wasn't scum of the earth after all, what with Beth catatonic and Rick and Glenn out looking for them. 

Shane sobered pretty quickly at that thought, since full dark had fallen while he and Ace wandered around like idiots cleaning up after the incident and making out around every corner when they had two seconds alone. They'd ended up back in Daryl's new campsite as evening fell, Ace in his lap and his hands in her hair. 

Shane supposed they should have been doing some more talking, but they were finding more interesting means of communication.

Of course, then Daryl walked up, glanced at them with a pissed expression that softened when he looked at his sister, and told them to get a room. Ace informed him that it was high school all over again, and this was her room. Daryl'd been ready to fire back when Shane shook his head, tossed her over his shoulder as he rose, and waved to Daryl. 

Ace cackled until he'd started up the steps and she'd demanded to keep at least some of her dignity, thank you very much. 

Shane took a seat and she glanced over at him from down the table near Maggie. Her cheeks flushed lightly as she glanced away and then back, rolling her eyes when Shane winked at her. He had a minute to consider that maybe everything would work out- he'd talk to Rick, Lori would come around, they'd be safe now that the barn was empty.

But then Lori was missing, and Ace's eyes turned worried, and Carl hadn't seen his mom since that afternoon. Shit. Dinner forgotten, everyone split up to search.

"She's not at the barn," Shane reported as they gathered back together. 

"I checked the yards," T Dog said, shaking his head. 

Carl's panicked eyes focused on Shane. "Where is she?" 

"My dumbass brother just told me she asked him to go after Rick and Glenn." Ace's voice was furious in the darkness. "Then he told me he was done being everyone's errand boy, so he just didn't fucking say anything. Carl, I'm so sorry. Shane, I'll go after her." 

"The hell you will," he snapped. "I'm going. You're in charge. Carl, I'll bring her back, ok? She's fine. So's your dad. Listen to Ace." 

He found her wandering down the goddamn road with blood on her head because she'd wrecked the fucking car. 

"I'm fine," she told him as soon as he approached her. 

He ignored that, checked for himself, and hauled her ass to the Hyundai. She tried to argue, saying they had to find Rick, and Shane lied to her for the first time ever. Just to get her to fucking come with him. 

"He's back. They're all back, safe and sound," he told her, already knowing that was a bad choice. But she got in the car. 

Shane decided she'd forgive him. Eventually. 

Two seconds after they got back, she asked for Rick and the assembled group looked at each other. Shane winced, shrugged, and tried not to show any weakness. Lori came after him, shoving him and calling him an asshole, and Shane would accept that. He was. But he'd been right, damn it. 

"Look, I will go out there and I will bring them back, but I had to get you back here. Lori, I have to look out for you first. I had to make sure the baby's all right, ok?" Shane closed his eyes as soon as the words popped out, dropping his head as she glared at him. 

"You're having a baby?" Carl said. 

Shane rubbed a hand over his head and cursed viciously in his head, especially when he glanced up to see Ace slide off the porch rail and disappear into the darkness. Shane hesitated, caught between Ace and his family and unsure which fire he need to try to put out first. 

He followed Lori into the house.

Shane opened Rick's back door cautiously and stuck his head in, able to hear the wails from outside. He winced as it got more painful without the door between him and Carl's ear piercing shriek, and Shane wondered what the hell was happening with the little tyke. 

Rick's kitchen was a disaster of dishes, bottles, and baby crap strewn everywhere; Lori's normally spotlessly maintained domain looking like a baby store and a dumpster had thrown up in it. Shane toed off his shoes and headed to the fridge with the groceries he'd brought over. He was starting to think this was definitely the right call, especially when he heard Lori's voice rise over Carl's crying. 

"Look, baby, I don't know any more than you do! What do you need? What do you need? Are you hungry again? Are you cold? I just changed you. Please just stop making that noise!" 

"Lor?" Shane yelled, thinking it was probably best to let her know there was someone in her house. 

"Shit," he heard her say when Carl quieted down to breathe or something. "Shane." 

Shane waited as he heard her footsteps approach, and he smiled when she came into the kitchen. She looked like- well, like the mom of a three week old who was giving her hell, Shane thought fondly. Woman needed a nap, a shower, and a haircut, but she bounced Shane's tiny new nephew and smiled tiredly back at him. 

"Sorry," he said with a gesture. "I brought stuff to make you dinner." 

Lori eased down into a chair. "That's so nice, Shane, but you don't- God!" 

Carl started wailing again and Lori's eyes closed, her face sagging. Shane chuckled lightly, stepped over to her, and scooped Carl into his arms. 

"Hey, little man. Stop giving your mama hell. Come on, man. That's not cool," he informed the baby. Carl regarded him with a grumpy expression and Shane grinned. When the little guy yawned, Shane tucked him into the crook of his arm like a football and focused back on Lori, who leaned against the counter looking like she was going to fall asleep right there. 

"I'll take him for a bit. Go on, I know what I'm doing. Get a shower, take a nap, have a drink- whatever you want. My new sidekick and I are goin' for a walk, ok?" he told her, and kissed her forehead when she started to protest. "Just say thank you, Lor. I've got this."

Lori gave a watery laugh and dashed tears from her eyes. "Thank you, Shane." 

One impossible conversation and about thirty minutes later, he stalked right back out and squinted toward the Dixon campfire in the distance. He wanted to find Ace, but Shane was fairly certain he'd end up in a fistfight with Daryl if he tried to talk to the man now. Lori could have gotten her damn self killed, along with Shane's baby. 

But he needed to make sure Ace was ok. She said she was fine with not being able to have kids, but Shane was getting better at reading her with every damn conversation they had, and he knew better now. He could see the way she believed it when she'd said she was broken, and Shane knew there was more to the story than just what she'd told him. 

But what she'd said had been enough. More than enough for one conversation, at least, considering how she never opened up about anything. Shane was glad, even if what she said made his hands shake and his fists clench with the need to pound a bastard's face in. 

He shoved into his tent and came up short, temper draining away instantly at the sight of her laying on his sleeping bag, wearing his flannel with a blanket tossed over her. She was sound asleep, curled on her side, one hand tucked under her chin and the other flung out toward the tent edge. 

Shane zipped the tent, pulled the Glock from his holster and checked the safety before setting it to the side, toed off his boots, and curled around her. She made a little noise of protest as he tugged on the blanket so it would cover them both, but she followed it with a sigh as he slid his arm around her and rested his forehead against her shoulder. 

Shit, Shane thought as he closed his eyes and her foot slid determinedly back and under his knee, cold toes leeching warmth from him. She just fucking fit. Why the hell did they waste so much time claiming to be just friends?

He pressed his lips to her shoulder and wondered if he'd just been running scared or what, after that first night they'd spent tearing up her apartment. He'd been young, damn it, but that wasn't an excuse. 

He remembered laying in the dark in her bed, listening to her breathe and thinking about how well they seemed to click. It'd been easy, none of the awkwardness of a first date- just chatter like they'd known each other forever, and they'd slid right into each other's arms when they got to her place. For the life of him now, Shane didn't know what had happened between him falling asleep thinking she was pretty damn close to perfect and them waking up the next morning, taking one look at each other and the mess in her place, and bursting out laughing.

Guess it was just last call making him a liar to her again, he supposed.

Shane hated to think how much pain she might have avoided if he'd woken up that morning and taken her for breakfast or coffee or something, instead of parting ways with the equivalent of 'that was fun but I'm not into commitment' and 'see you at the bar sometime'. Hell, he'd thought about her for the whole damn day, and for four days after until he'd strolled back into the Lullaby with a vague plan to seduce her again. 

She'd been pleased to see him, they'd started talking, and she'd been back with Malcolm fucking Hall. The rest, as they say, was history. 

Well, Shane would do something about it now, he promised himself. Slugger'd been his girl all along, even if he hadn't know it, and he'd do a damn sight better job of taking care of her now. 

Shane woke up the next morning with a backache, fingers he couldn't feel, and half of his body cold. 

He woke up smiling, though, because the other half was warm under Ace curled against his chest, her hair everywhere- including tickling Shane's nose- and the blanket wrapped securely around her and not at all on him. 

Damn thief, Shane thought, running his free hand- the one he could actual feel- through her hair to collect and tame it before he ended up breathing it in. And maybe just because she was there and he liked doing it. Ever since that first flash of blue, he'd loved her hair. Loved seeing what insanity she was going to do to it next, never knowing if she'd have it long or short, bright pastels or deep, saturated color like paint spilling from her mind. When she was doing a piece and had it tucked up under her beanie, he always wanted to pull the hat off and show what she was hiding underneath. It was such a part of her, he mused, and found himself really wishing Glenn had brought her back some color from one of his supply runs with Maggie. There had to be shit like hair dye left in the world, right? 

Yeah, he'd be making that happen. 

She shifted against him, and he propped his head on his arm and started at the tent ceiling in the early morning light. There was shit that needed to be done, he knew. Rick and Glenn needed to be found. He and Lori needed to talk again. Shit, he and Ace needed to have something resembling a discussion of what this new thing between them looked like. Sure, Shane had declared them together, but that'd been about as much talking as had been done. They'd gotten a little distracted making out like teenagers.

Shane sighed, pondering if he could extricate himself from Ace without waking her up and get started on at least one of those things. 

"You're thinking real loud," Ace mumbled. 

Shane chuckled. "Yeah?" 

"Mhhmm. Stop it," she instructed through a yawn. She scooted around so she could squint up at him. "It's early." 

God damn, she was so fucking pretty, he thought. Hair a mess, grumpy frown, eyes blurry, and Shane still just wanted to kiss her endlessly. 

So he did, and she made a little 'oof' of surprise, but she kissed him back and cuddled up closer. It didn't take long before Shane had a hand in her hair, her pressed into the ground under him and starting to shiver as he kissed along her neck. 

"We need to talk about some things," he whispered as he did. 

"Like- shit. What? Like what?" she gasped out, her hands sliding up under his shirt. 

He kissed her some more, more urgently now, and her hands headed toward his belt as her legs wrapped around him. He broke apart, breathing hard, and she wiggled and squirmed until he was under her, all her hair tumbling around her face as she stretched both arms toward the sky and arched her back. Shane let his hands roam over her body, offered up like an invitation for him to do just that, and she closed her eyes and let out a moan as his hands slid up her ribs and over her breasts. 

He hushed her with a grin and a laugh, and she flipped him off and rolled her hips over him until he had to swallow a groan of his own. Her head fell back when he started undoing the buttons on his shirt that she'd stolen again, and he wondered if he'd ever look at the thing and not immediately think of her in it like this, all contrast between the gloriously bare body beneath and the vivid colors hanging loose from her shoulders.

"Like this," he said, tracing one finger slowly down her breastbone, along skin laid bare between the unbuttoned edges of his shirt, and watching her eyes flicker closed as she bit back whatever noise she wanted to make. He grinned, grabbed a handful of the shirt, and tugged her down to lay against him. "Like us." 

She slithered down him, trailing kisses as she went, and glanced up with a wicked smirk when he bit out a 'fuck' and grabbed at her hair to stop her. "Quiet, Dickhead," she scolded him. "Everyone will hear." 

"Everyone already knows," he shot back in a whisper, but he glanced at the tent flap guiltily. "Get back up here, come on." 

She obliged and he pulled her close again, rolling them so he could look down into her eyes. He ran his fingers over the flush on her cheek, shaking his head. 

"Alright, look. We're gonna fuck first- quietly- but then we're gonna talk some more, you hear me?" he ordered. 

Her lips twitched and she bit at them, trying to keep a straight, serious face. "Yes, Deputy Walsh," she murmured demurely, and Shane tried to muffle his laugh. 

"Dammit, Slugger. Give me that mouth so you'll stop making trouble with it," he whispered, and kissed her some more. 

They didn't actually get around to the talking part, as usual. They'd laughed and whispered insults and jokes at each other as they found clothes and shoes and Shane told her to take his Glock and holster, damn it. That had lead to a brief, hissed argument when she flat refused that had Shane questioning why the damn woman wouldn't protect herself. 

She batted her eyelashes, smirked, and said he'd do it for her, mild flirtation Shane was starting to realize she used to deflect and manipulate when there was something she didn't want to talk about. He filed that away for a later conversation and gave up on the gun- for now. 

"Hey, you two- get dressed and get ya asses out here; they're back!" Daryl's irritated voice yelled from outside the tent. 

Shane grabbed his shotgun and ducked out, all playfulness of the morning gone with that announcement. Daryl looked from him to Ace, then nodded at the pickup pulling slowly back up the road. Shane caught the appraising edge in Dixon's glance, but he decided he didn't feel the need to confront that right at that precise moment.

Shane headed to meet the truck at the house, but he heard Daryl say something low to Ace. 

"Oh, shut up, asshole," she shot back. "I'm still mad at you." 

Shane would have turned to find out what that was about, but Rick, Glenn, and Hershel were splattered in blood and Rick had the grim look he got when things had gone particularly to shit on the job. 

The group gathered, reunions were had, and T Dog interrupted Rick and Lori beginning to fight over Lori sneaking out. 

"Who the hell is that?" he asked, and Shane focused on the blindfolded figure in the backseat.

"That's Randall," Glenn answered cryptically. 

"Well, shit," Ace said mildly. 

Shane could feel the headache coming, damn it.


	41. Lie #41: "You Don't Get To Be The Good Guy And Expect To Live" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
references to past murder  
referenced past domestic abuse/violence  
referenced past child abuse

Shane yelled. Rick yelled. Ace backed Shane up in a more moderate tone, as against bringing some punk ass dick whose friends had tried to kill their people back here as Shane was- just less of an asshole about it. The rest of the group offered opinions at various degrees of volume. Shane and Ace were overruled, and the kid stayed until he healed enough that Rick was ready to give him some supplies and send him on his merry way. 

"This is a dumbass plan," Shane muttered to Ace as he pulled his boots on. 

She sighed and kissed his cheek, wrapping him in a hug from behind. "Yeah. I'm going with you." 

"Like hell," he shot back easily. 

"Try and stop me, Dickhead. You two need a chaperone these days, what with Lori pulling her bitch fit and claiming you're dangerous. Jesus." Ace's tone went hard and pissed at the end, and Shane gave her a fond look. 

Sure, it'd pissed him off too, when she told him what she'd overheard Lori say. But Shane had lied to the woman, after all. And he and Rick still hadn't talked about things, something Ace had advised repeatedly that he do over the past four days. 

Shane had tried. He had. But every time he and Rick were together, around others or just the two of them, they ended up taking each others heads off and storming away without saying any of what they needed to say. 

Shane sighed, Ace kissed him on her way out of the tent, and Shane held onto her hand, not letting her go. She gave him an amused look as he shook his head. 

They still hadn't had their talk either, what with her spending a lot of time arguing her brother out of being an asshole and trying to convince him to move back to the main camp; Shane and Rick at each other's throats; and the fact that whenever they were together, he and Ace couldn't keep their hands off each other. Shane resolved once again to make sure it happened, after Randall was taken care of. 

"If you're going, you're taking a gun," he informed her. 

She made a face but nodded agreement, and Shane kissed her fingers before he let her go, enjoying the way her eyes softened and her cheeks flushed. 

Romancing the shit out of her was going to be fun, Shane had already figured out. The woman didn't know how the hell she was supposed to be treated, and every small show of Shane's affection lit her up like someone turned on the goddamn lights. It made him wish the world hadn't ended, so he could do it right, damn it. 

Well, he'd do his best with what he had to work with, wouldn't he?

To his surprise, Rick didn't argue when she slid into the backseat. She had Shane's hat on her head, her hair pulled through the hole in the back to keep it out of her face, and one of King County's service weapons on her hip, shoved through a belt. Shane sighed and thought again about sending Glenn into town to look for proper holsters- and hair dye for his girl, damn it. The air was getting cooler, and she'd conceded to the changing Georgia weather enough to put on an actual shirt, with sides and sleeves and everything. 

It was Shane's, and he didn't mind one damn bit. 

Rick's eyes lingered on her in the car with a foot already propped on the seat, and she stared back until Rick nodded once and got behind the wheel. Alright then, Shane thought. They were off. 

They rode in silence, Ace sketching away in the college-ruled notebook she'd swiped from Hershel's house. She'd filled her bloodstained sketchbook completely, then wandered around bitchy and irritable for hours until Maggie had asked her if she needed some Midol. 

Ace had appreciated that, thank God, instead of getting offended, and they'd gone on a hunt for another one in the house together. Ace had come back with a package of Crayola colored pencils, the notebook, and a much improved disposition. She'd been damn near inseparable from the thing, doing portraits of all of Hershel's people as well as Maggie and Glenn being cute together, Beth and Jimmy feeding chickens, the house and the barns and the sun rising over the fields. She'd muttered to Shane that what she really wanted was to paint a big-ass mural (her exact words) on the side of the house, because 'just look at all the lines, Shane, do you know what I could do with that?' 

Shane's advice had been to stick with the notebook.

He knew from sneaking a look- and from waking up to find her staring at him- that she'd already done two of him stretched out in their tent, half-dressed and asleep. Shane didn't mind, but he'd had other ideas for how she should be spending that time, and he'd thoroughly distracted her with them. 

He watched her in the rear view mirror, stealing glances at the two of them, and Shane figured he'd be seeing himself and Rick through her eyes again by the end of the day. 

Rick hit the brakes at a four way intersection and got out of the car. Shane glanced at Ace, who shrugged and climbed out as well, leaning in the open doorway as Shane followed Rick. 

"Thought we were going further," he said cautiously to the side of Rick's pissed-off face. 

"We are. Eighteen miles out." 

Ok then, Shane thought. He glanced at Ace as Rick walked to the center of the crossroads, and she gestured him on with an expression that said 'this is your problem, not mine'. Shane sighed and followed Rick some more. 

"I wanted to talk," Rick said. "Been waiting until we were gonna do this. Wasn't counting on Ace coming along, but-" 

"We don't need to," Shane said, Ace's tendency to avoid topics she didn't like showing up in him all the sudden as lead settled into his gut like a cannon ball. 

"Oh, we do," Rick disagreed. 

"No, man, we don't. I get it. We're doing this. He was unconscious-"

Ace let out a frustrated groan from the car, and he and Rick both looked at her. She held up her hands for peace and gestured them on, and Shane shot her a glare as he turned back to Rick. Like she had room to be annoyed. Rick was smiling slightly, almost so small Shane didn't see it. 

"She knows what I mean," Rick said. "I know you'll have told her everything. I heard what really happened at the school." 

Shane scoffed. "Did you now? See that's- that's interesting, because unless you heard it from that woman right there, then you don't know shit about what happened." 

"Lori says you killed Otis." 

Shane rubbed a hand over his head. "Yeah. I bet she does. What else does Lori say, man? That I'm- I'm dangerous? I think that baby's mine? Yeah, I am. I do. She's got one thing dead wrong though, Rick; and I bet she didn't mention some of the- the finer details of the situation, either."

Rick glared at the air somewhere between Shane and Ace. "And what might I be missing from the picture?" 

"Well, you see, here's the thing. I don't want Lori. Carl's my nephew, so I love him more than life itself but he's not my son. I know that. I asked Lori to look me in the eyes and tell me there was no chance that baby was mine. I asked her that, Rick, and said if she could do it, right then and right there, that'd be all she heard about it from me. Either of you." Shane made a tossing gesture with one hand when Rick's glare shot his way and was gone again. "See, you both just don't fuckin' get it. I don't want Lori, Rick. I never looked at her that way before, and I swear to God, brother, if I didn't know- I mean know without a doubt- that you were dead-" 

Rick spun and stalked to him. "How'd you know, Shane?" 

"Because I was there!" Shane roared back. How dare Rick ask him that? How dare he question Shane on that- all the shit with Lori, sure. Shane could forgive Rick is doubts. But this? Fuck. "I had my ear to your chest. I listened for a heartbeat; I checked for breathing; I looked for your pulse on three different arteries, man. There was nothin'. You stepped out of that van, and I figured you had to be Jesus fucking Christ himself to come walking up to me because there was no way. You- do you know how many times I wished you were there, puttin' that goddamn camp together? Do you?" 

"No, I don't, 'cause you were sleepin' with my wife," Rick snarled. 

"She came on to me!" Shane yelled it, helplessly. He rubbed a hand over his head again and stared at the ground. "She came on to me. I hate to- I know you aren't gonna believe that if she says differently, but that's how it happened, man. I swear to you." 

"What have you got to swear on that I'll believe?" Rick scoffed, but he'd taken a step back from Shane. 

Shane looked his friend dead in the eyes. "Us. Rick, you've been a goddamn brother to me my whole fucking life. Look at me right now and tell me you think I'd do that to you." 

Rick sighed, running a hand over his face. "I don't know, Shane. I don't know. You kill Otis?" 

"Yeah. It was me or him. Had to be me. One shot to leg and Carl lived and I got to see Ace again," Shane said bluntly. "You don't get to be the good guy and expect to live, Rick. Not anymore." 

Rick's eyes moved beyond Shane to Ace, still watching them closely. "You know, she's- she's the reason we're having this conversation like this. She's the reason I'm giving you this chance." 

Shane looked at her too, her worried eyes catching his. He smiled to reassure her and turned back to Rick. "She's the reason for a lot of things. Why this in particular?"

"Because I find it hard to believe you'd go after my wife with Ace around. I know how you feel about her. I don't know if you've gotten your head far enough out of your ass to see it for yourself or to tell her yet, but at least- at least you've finally dropped that damn thing about just being friends." 

Shane stared as Rick shot him an amused look. Was Rick really getting on Shane's case about him and Ace right now? In this moment? "What the fuck, man?" 

Rick chuckled slightly. "Yeah. That's- that's what I thought. I'm not the good guy anymore, Shane. Lori says you're dangerous. But you're not gonna be dangerous. Not to us, not to me, not to anyone. You and Lori." 

Shane braced himself, glancing away. 

"When I figured it out, and I figured it out pretty quickly, I wanted to break your jaw. But I didn't. Wasn't weakness, Shane. It was a choice. That's my wife, my son, my unborn child. I will stay alive to keep them alive," Rick hissed, eyes hard. 

Shane looked at the ground, knowing damn well that that was it. He'd tried, and Rick didn't believe him- all because Shane hadn't just gone to him earlier. 

"But Carl's your nephew. That baby, my baby- it might be yours, too." 

Shane's head shot back up and he stared at Rick blindly. Rick stared back, and Shane didn't know what to do or say right now. 

"You don't love her. Not the way Lori thinks you do. See, I know that, because I know you and I see you with Ace," Rick whispered. "So this is it, Shane. Your chance. Give us some space. Get your shit under control and for God's sake don't kill anybody else. Back the hell off about the baby, at least for awhile, and we'll see if you and me can keep on." 

Rick turned and walked away as Shane stared after him, at a loss for words. Before Rick had taken more than a few steps, though, Shane found himself speaking. "When it started it was just a couple stories on the news. When it happened it was- it was so quick. Everything- it just happened. Two weeks later I'm in the hospital and there were soldiers shootin' people in the halls. People, man, not walkers. Then the walkers came through. I tried to get you out. I couldn't- I couldn't live with it. But I had to. I had to get them out, and I had to get to Atlanta." 

Rick turned halfway back to him. Shane knew Ace could hear every word, and he figured she'd be mad at him for what he was about to say, but it didn't matter. 

"I was trying to get to Ace, but they started droppin' napalm from the sky, and I had to- I had Lori and Carl. What the hell could I do? I left behind both of my best friends, believed them both to be dead, for your wife and your son. I didn't keep them alive, brother; they kept me alive. I'd take it all back if I could. I hope you know that." 

Rick looked at him once and turned away. "I wanna check the ropes." 

Ace reached for his hand when he followed Rick back to the car, but Shane couldn't meet her eyes. Not after confessing that he'd left her in that hell for Lori and Carl. She and Rick were talking about preparing for winter, some shit about snow mobiles and dry goods and cold slowing them down, but Shane couldn't listen. 

Lori said he was dangerous. Lori said he was in love with her. Shane wondered just fucking when Lori had turned into such a goddamn bitch. 

Was it her own guilt? She'd come on to Shane and now that Rick was back she couldn't handle it. It had to be someone else's fault, so she'd picked Shane. He made a pretty damn good bad guy, he thought with a scoff. Fucking hell, Shane would have picked himself as the enemy too. 

Rick found a spot he was satisfied with, so Shane stepped out of the car and looked around. He shrugged agreement when Rick said they'd scavenge supplies first, and pulled his Glock when the walker came toward them. 

"Wait. Like I said. Knives," Rick told him. He smeared blood along the fence and Ace sighed. 

"You know, you don't need to do that. They'll come close enough without the distraction." 

Rick glanced at her as he knifed the walker. "What makes you so sure?" 

"Fighting my way out of a hospital in a wheelchair, I sure as hell wasn't spilling fresh blood for them. They came all the same," she said with a shrug. "There's another one. This is where having a bigger knife comes in handy, gents." 

She pulled the machete she'd been carrying around since Carl found them on the road, stepped to the fence, and plunged it into the walker without bleeding everywhere. 

Rick sighed and shook his head at her. "You're trouble, aren't you?" 

She flashed Rick a grin that made Shane's heart race despite the guilt still weighing his shoulders and shrugged. "I've been told. So, we climbing the fence or what?"

She followed him onto the school bus without a word, and Shane knew if he didn't say something soon he was going to fuck up even worse. He had to tell her he was sorry for abandoning her; had to find some way to tell her she mattered to him more than Lori and Carl did now. 

He didn't have any words. 

She sucked in a breath and her hand slid into his when she saw the car seat, and Shane held on automatically. When she leaned her forehead to his back, he let out a long sigh. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

She shook her head. "For what? It's hardly your fault." 

"For leaving you for dead in Atlanta," he managed. 

Her head left his back and she tugged on his hand until he turned back to her. She looked confused as hell, Shane thought, which made him confused. 

"What are you talking about? That- Shane. We hadn't spoken for six months and they bombed the fucking city. I honestly think I'd be pissed if you'd tried to come in there. You had a kid to think about! And all those other people from the camp!" She gestured wildly with the knife in her hand, and Shane snorted. 

"Stop swinging that damn blade around before you hurt someone, Slugger. You're not mad?" he asked. 

"Why the hell would I be mad?" she demanded, looking annoyed. "Jesus. Damn hero complex. Idiot." 

Shane started to fire something back at her about that, but she stepped forward and kissed him soundly. 

"Huh. I ask if you're mad again, will you do that again?" he teased when she stepped back. 

She shot him an amused glance and headed out of the bus. "Don't push your luck, Dickhead." 

The kid ran his mouth when they started to leave, yelling about being just some guy who couldn't make it alone. In a display of coldness that had Ace whistling soundlessly at Shane, Rick dropped a knife on the ground without even looking back. 

Shane started to think maybe he'd been underestimating his friend all these years. 

"I went to school with Maggie Greene!" 

"Fuck," Ace said as all three of them came a halt. 

Ace pulled the Glock from her belt and Shane watched in slow motion as Rick slammed her hands aside. The gun clattered to the ground as she stumbled from the force of Rick's blow, her shot going wide, and Shane had two major thoughts tumble one right after the other. 

The first was holy shit- she'd just tried to kill the kid. The second was pure rage at Rick as Ace fell sideways into a parked cruiser with a grunt. 

Shane started swinging even as Ace started yelling, but he wasn't listening. He had Rick on the ground and was seeing red, hauling back as Rick tried to speak. Rick took the first punch, spat blood, and then slammed his knee into Shane's leg when Shane was going for the second hit. 

Nobody fucking laid hands on Ace, he thought grimly. Not Rick, not Ed, not Malcolm fucking Hall, not her damn dad. Nobody.

Rick slammed Shane into the cruiser and fumbled Shane's gun from his holster. For a heart-stopping second, Shane thought his friend was going to shoot him, but Rick tossed his Glock away instead. Shane reared back and slammed his head into Rick's nose, broke his hold, and they were at it again. 

Rick slammed his fist into Shane's solar plexus and all the air went out of him, but in the next moment Shane was dropping a motorcycle on his friend's leg.

"Damn it, Shane! Rick! Motherfucker- Oh, I don't think so, you bastard," Ace shouted, and the change in tone on the end of it had Shane turning to look. 

Ace aimed a vicious kick at the kid, who'd been creeping toward Rick's dropped knife, then turned back to Shane. 

"Are you- Shane!" 

Shane ducked when her eyes went wide, and Rick's punch sailed over his head. Shane followed his own momentum, driving his shoulder into Rick's gut and taking them both down. 

Out of nowhere, something huge and heavy went flying through the air, shattering the window above them. 

Shane and Rick froze as glass rained down, both of them staring at each other before they turned to look over Shane's shoulder. 

Ace stood panting, her hands on her hips and the rage he'd seen after Andrea shot Daryl in her eyes. "Are you two done now?" she snarled. "Shane, goddamn it, I am fine, you caveman. Rick, are you fucking kidding me? He'd stopped and you went back in for more? Assholes, both of you!" 

She tossed her hands up as she raged at them both equally, starting to pace like her brother. Shane glanced down at Rick, rose, and hunched his shoulders as he headed toward her. 

"Ace, I-" 

"No," she snapped. "You don't- just- go over there. I need to talk to Rick." 

Shane glanced from her to where Rick still half-lay on the ground, and Rick shrugged. Shane looked back at Slugger's storm-cloud eyes and decided he valued his body without any more bruises than he'd just picked up from Rick. He went where she pointed, one eye on the confused and terrified Randall. 

So of course he had a great view when the walkers fell from the broken window. 

Shane couldn't get to her. He tried, but she and Rick were under the bodies of the first couple of dead- a trick she'd pulled on the highway with Daryl- and Shane had to run if he wanted to stay alive long enough to help them. 

He found himself trapped in the bus with just his pocketknife and a swarm of the bastards pressing against the doors trying to get to him. 

"Shit. Ok. Shit," he muttered, and opened the door slightly. He stabbed one in the head and promptly got his knife tangled in the bitch's brains, and- 

Now Shane had no weapons. Yeah, he was gonna die here. Shit. 

He glanced out the back of the bus, wondering if he could get out the emergency exit, but the dead were gathering around there too. As he watched, though, Shane saw Rick and his Slugger, hauling the kid between them. Ace shoved Randall ahead of her, gestured wildly toward the bus, arguing with Rick, and Rick looked back as well. 

Rick leaned toward Ace, saying something with his stubborn bastard expression and one hand on Ace's shoulder. Then he grabbed her by the arm, hauling her away even as she argued. 

Shane was ok with that. "Good on you, brother. Get her the hell out of here," he muttered, and started looking around grimly for something, anything, he could use to live. 

Ace yelled his named at a decibel that made Shane's ears hurt even over the sounds of the dead. He looked up wildly from contemplating his certain demise to see her hanging out the passenger side of the Hyundai, both hands wrapped around the butt of her Glock as she fired at the walkers. 

"Run for the back door!" she screamed, and Shane didn't need to be told twice. 

He dove through the back window, Ace covering his ass and yelling for Rick to drive, just drive, as soon as he was halfway in. Rick broke through the fence and floored it, and Shane lay sprawled across the backseat trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. 

Before he could, Ace was scrambling over the center console, damn near kicking Rick in the head, and he had his girl with glassy, wide eyes running her hands over him and muttering under her breath. 

"Hey, hey, Slugger, come on," Shane said, sitting up and grabbing at her hands. "I'm fine. Ok? I'm fine. Where's Randall?" 

Ace leaned into him, her face in his neck, and mumbled something Shane didn't catch before sucking in a hard breath.

"In the trunk," Rick answered. "You really ok?" 

"I'm good. Not a scratch on me. Well, not any I didn't earn," he said, meeting Rick's eyes in the rear view over Ace's head.

"I get it," Rick said. "Couldn't let her kill him, though." 

Shane nodded once, but he was thinking that yes, Rick damn well could have. He ran a hand over Ace's hair. "Come on, sweetheart. I'm ok." 

She shoved back, scrubbed a hand over her face, and glared between the two of them. "You complete assholes! Goddamn it, this is what happens when you fight? You're friends, motherfuckers; act like it!"


	42. Lie #42: "Trying To Kill Him Wasn't Hard" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
implied torture  
references to past teen pregnancy  
references to past miscarriage  
references to past domestic violence/abuse

You leaned against Shane in the backseat, trying to stop your hands from shaking. 

You'd almost lost him, no matter how much he protested that he was fine. You'd just started this new thing between you, and five days into it, you'd almost fucking lost him because you lost your temper and chucked a pipe wrench through a window. 

To be fair, he and Rick had been punching the shit out of each other and you yelling at them hadn't gotten their attention, but still. 

Fear made you angry, and the temper Mal hated was still snapping and biting at your mind. You'd almost killed Randall; he was back in the fucking trunk anyway; Shane and Rick had beaten each other up for awhile; and Shane had almost died. This shit needed to stop.

You pulled out of Shane's arms and looked between them in the silence that had fallen in the car since your last outburst. Rick was in the driver's seat, staring forward with an intense expression. Shane's hand slid from your hair to your shoulder when you sat up, and he turned from contemplating the window to give you a concerned look. 

You sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly as Shane's brow furrowed, and tried to get your temper under control. 

"Are you two done now?" you managed through clenched teeth. 

Rick's eyes shot to the rear view. "With what?" 

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Rick," you said. "Look, I'm not one to stand on anything resembling a high horse here-" 

"Do you stand on high horses?" Shane muttered. 

You glared at him as Rick snorted a laugh. "Oh, fuck you, Shane. Seriously, guys. Come on. Can you not attempt to resolve this without punching the shit out of each other? Because don't even pretend that was all over little old me; Rick didn't hit me that hard and I was taking a shot at Randall. I'd have hit me too, our situations were reversed." 

Shane's lip curled and he deliberately didn't look at Rick. "Shouldn't have laid a hand on you. There were other ways. Or he just could have let you do it, solved all our problems." 

Rick sighed dramatically. "What other ways? She's a damn good shot. Only had one chance." 

"So let the kid die. Don't fucking touch her," Shane snapped. 

You honestly didn't know what you wanted to do more- haul him up short for the caveman attitude or melt into a puddle of heart eyes in the glow of his fierce protective streak. 

"I'm probably gonna have to kill him," Rick said slowly. 

You and Shane exchanged wide-eyed looks. You hadn't expected him to admit that one, especially after he'd specifically saved the punk ass from the walkers. You'd been content to use him as a distraction to get Shane out of the damn bus and Rick had looked at you like he was thinking maybe you were the one he should have been worried about all along and insisted you do anything but that. Arguing hadn't been feasible at the moment, so you'd come up with another- in your opinion far more risky- plan. 

Whatever; it had worked. Shane was alive, but that left you with the punk ass still to deal with somehow.

Rick was holding Shane's eyes in the mirror for long enough you began to be concerned about the road. Lori had already wrecked because of a walker; one was enough thanks. "I'm gonna think about it for awhile first, though." 

Shane scrubbed a hand over the back of his head and nodded. 

"I mean, come on, Dickhead," you murmured. "That's reasonable and you know it. Not everyone is as cold-blooded as we are. Shit, that's a good thing. We scary," you said, making a face at him. 

Shane snorted, running his fingers down your cheek and coming away with walker blood from the asshole you'd been forced to use as cover. "Yeah, Slugger, you're terrifying." 

"Bit me," you shot back pleasantly. "Rick, thinking about it makes sense. What doesn't make sense is this bullshit love triangle you've got going on." 

"Jesus," Shane said, turning away to look out the window. 

You shrugged. "If you're not going to handle it, I will. Rick, do you seriously believe he did any of this on purpose? You think he left you in that hospital, rubbing his hands together and twirling his villainous mustache, and cackled 'yes, now I can have my way with Lori, my best friend's wife'?" 

"Fuck, Ace, come on," Shane snapped, looking at you with wide, angry eyes. 

You ignored him and focused on Rick's jaw as it clenched. 

"No," Rick said finally. "No, I don't. I don't think that. That's not-" 

"That's not Shane," you finished for him. "So, I'll ask you again- are you two done? Shit happens, guys. Life is damn short. Every person in this car was given a second chance- to live, to find each other, to make amends and be friends. Take it, boys. Don't waste it." 

You sat up in bed, heart pounding like the fist currently drumming on your door. 

Three fucking am, you saw with a glance at the clock. You shoved a hand through your hair and begged the infernal fucking noise to stop. You'd been home for an hour, in bed for maybe half that. 

"If that's Mal, he's a dead man," you muttered. You'd broken up again three days before and were still enjoying the phase where he left you completely the fuck alone. You were still pissed at him and so not ready for that to end.

Especially at three in the morning, goddamn it. 

As you approached the door cautiously, from the side like Shane had insisted on teaching you in case there was an armed gunman out there (because you were frequently a target for hitmen and gunslingers), the pounding stopped. 

Thank Christ. Your building was pretty chill with late hours and odd goings-on, since nearly everyone in it was just on the wrong side of what Atlanta would consider respectable, but three am was sacred to everyone, damn it. You didn't want to have to issue apologies. In this building, apologies meant booze, and that got expensive.

You glanced through the peephole and flung open the door, confused as hell and concerned. "Shane?" 

He leaned on the wall, brown paper bag clutched in his hand, and waved without opening his eyes. "Hey, Slugger." 

"Shane, what the actual fuck? Do you know what time it is? Jesus, get in here. Are you drunk?" you hissed, pulling him inside. 

He shrugged, heading toward your kitchen and dropping his bag- clearly containing a bottle of that booze you'd just been thinking about- on the counter. "Not drunk yet. Sorry, I know it's late. I didn't- shit, did you work tonight?" he asked, finally focusing on you. 

His eyes wandered down your body and he smirked slightly. You glared at him, shoving your hand through your hair again. 

"Oh, bite me, asshole. I wasn't expecting company," you muttered. You tugged at the hem of the t shirt that hit above your belly button, trying to pull it down to cover- well, anything really, since you'd crawled into bed in just the t shirt and underwear. "Shit. I'll be right back." 

Shane rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. "Sorry, Slugger. Sorry. I don't- I don't know what I'm doing, sweetheart." 

You studied him, pausing halfway to your room at the broken edge to his tone. He looked wrecked. He was in half his uniform, the shirt missing, and- 

You blinked. "Is that blood on your pants?" 

He glanced down. "Yeah. Yeah, it- it is. I had- I had a real bad day, Ace," he finished, staring at his hands. "Didn't know what to do. Didn't want to be alone." 

"Ok," you whispered, having a sudden sinking feeling that 'real bad day' was one hell of an understatement. "Ok. Go on and open whatever bottle you brought and pour a couple glasses, Dickhead. Let me put some pants on, alright?" 

He sighed again, shoulders hunched, and nodded slowly. You stepped over to him and touched his cheek, wanting to offer some kind of comfort as soon as you could. The man looked positively destroyed.

"Hey. It's gonna be ok," you told him. "I'll be right back." 

Shane ended up drunk in less than an hour, emptying the bottle of scotch with record speed that would have impressed you if you weren't so goddamn worried. He told you, haltingly, about what had happened- a bust gone wrong, a civilian in danger, and Shane making a life-or-death split-second choice when Rick ended up in the path of danger somehow. 

He wasn't making a whole lot of sense and you weren't exactly going to be getting straight answers out of him while he was trashed, so you mostly just listened and held his hand. As Shane drank, he got more physical with you. First holding your hand, then playing with your hair, then an arm around you. You ended up in his lap at one point, his forehead on your shoulder, and your fingers threading through his hair as he got out the last awful parts of the story, about taking his shot and 'neutralizing the suspect'.

At first you weren't sure if you liked it or what the hell was even going on, but it didn't take long before you realized he just needed the comfort of a living, breathing, sympathetic human touch. At that point you relaxed and stopped worrying about it, letting him cuddle all he wanted. 

Hell, you enjoyed it too, even if you weren't really big on physical contact. Getting the shit beaten out of you often as a kid would do that to you. But something about the way Shane wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him was soothing for you as well as him, and you relaxed into it more easily that you'd have ever thought possible. 

Which was how you ended up laying in the dark sometime around four thirty in the morning, Shane asleep with his arm around your waist and his face pressed into your neck. You stroked a hand over the arm around you, fingers moving restlessly as you thought about what you'd been able to follow of his story. 

He'd killed someone on the job. He'd made a choice in the moment and saved two lives- possibly more- including his partner's. 

Most people would probably have cautioned you against letting in a man that you'd only know for four months into your apartment at three am. Especially since you'd hung out together only a handful of times outside of the bar, and one of those times had included some wild and crazy actions right here in this bed- and your shower, and your wall. Most people would look at a relationship that consisted mostly of text messages as less than a solid basis of trust for letting someone into your apartment period. Most people certainly wouldn't have helped him get drunk and then let him sleep wrapped around you like you were a giant teddy bear after he confessed to just having killed someone. 

Luckily for Shane, you supposed, you weren't most people. And neither was he.

He was spewing guilt and second guessing himself every step of the way through what had happened, and something about it tugged at your heart. You'd clicked with him right away, and you saw through the massive tough guy exterior he always had out. 

Oh, he was tough, you had no doubt about that. Tough and capable and strong, with an air that said clearly that he could take whatever the world threw at him and come out on top. But under that, he had a bleeding fucking heart and all the man wanted to do was help people. 

Damn hero complex, you thought with a sigh. He'd try to save those who couldn't be saved and blame himself when it didn't work. 

You listened to the story and knew he'd made the right choice. He'd watched out for his partner, he'd saved the innocent, and the only person who deserved to pay was the dead asshole who'd put them there in the first place. Unfortunately, Shane would heap on the guilt until he ended up paying too. 

That's what growing up with Will and Merle had taught you- how to be hard and harsh; to value you and yours and fuck the rest. Somehow, Shane had apparently become one of yours, because here you were- a casually anarchic pragmatist and a bleeding-heart hero you felt the need to comfort and care for. Good grief.

You sighed, turned to brush a kiss to his forehead, and let yourself settle back against him to sleep.

Daryl had blood on his knuckles and a grim expression when he came out of the shed where Randall had been secured. 

Rick had come by the tent early that morning and said you'd needed answers, so he'd sent in Daryl. You weren't sure why he'd chosen your brother, but it was exactly who you'd have sent. 

Dixons got results, after all. 

And Rick probably hadn't wanted Shane to go in there after you'd both been loudly- and violently- in favor of a more direct and immediate resolution. Whatever, it was what it was. 

The group had assembled while Daryl did his thing, and you'd curled up in Shane's lap and started doodling while he played with your hair. Everyone had been lobbing questions at Rick as they gathered, and you didn't understand what was so difficult about the concept of 'wait, we need information'. Even fucking Lori was on Rick's ass about what he was going to do, not that you were really surprised by that. 

Jesus, you hated her these days. It wasn't the pregnancy- you'd have been just as much a bitch as she was to hate her for that- or even the way she kept sneering at you slightly, all the damn time. You'd never exactly won popularity contests and Jesus fuck you did not care if she liked you. 

You couldn't forgive her for whispering her shit into Rick's ear about Shane. You'd been heading back to the tent for your sketchbook, after a short argument with Daryl about his behavior and the first big group meeting on what to do with Randall, and you'd overheard her. She'd been telling Rick that Shane was dangerous, that he killed Otis, that he was in love with Lori and thought she and Carl and the baby belonged to him. 

Your hands had been shaking with rage and you'd almost stormed right in there and set her bitch ass straight on a few things, but Shane had called for you from across the camp. You'd decided it was really up to him what to do about it, turned, and slipped silently away. Even now, you didn't think either of them knew you'd been there.

Bitch, you thought again as she looked at Daryl and seemed shocked at the blood on his hands. What the hell did she think he was going in there to do, ask nicely?

You climbed out of Shane's lap, more because you knew he'd want to get up than because you had any real desire to do so yourself. 

"Boy there's got a gang. Thirty men. They've got heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women... they're gonna wish they were," Daryl said, shooting a glance your way. 

You grimaced as Shane's hand reached for yours. "Perfect," you muttered. 

"Yeah," your brother agreed. 

"What did you do?" Carol asked, her eyes wide as she stared at Daryl's bloodied hand. You eyed her contemplatively, because that tone wasn't so much her being dense like Lori as it was worry for Daryl and his well-being, and you could get behind that. There was a fair bit of taking him for granted happening in the camp in general, which was what had lead to him being a jerk about Lori asking him to go into town and to him moving to the suburbs out there by the chimney. So it was nice to see someone besides you giving a shit.

Daryl tended to not care if people cared about him or not- or even, frankly, notice- and jerked one shoulder with a hard look. "We had a little chat." 

"No one goes near this guy," Rick ordered firmly. 

Carol swallowed hard and turned away as Lori asked Rick for the seventeenth time what he was going to do. Rick looked grim, his jaw tight, and Shane shifted beside you and met Rick's eyes when Rick looked his way. 

"He's a threat," Rick said slowly. "We have to eliminate the threat." 

You let out a silent sigh, thankful it was decided as Rick declared that he would do it today. 

Then, because nothing was easy and this was apparently a committee operation all the sudden, Dale objected and now everyone was going to think it over and gather again at sundown to vote. You snorted and glanced at Shane, who shook his head with a roll of his eyes back at you. 

Yeah, you knew what your vote was. 

Daryl headed back out to his campsite pretty much immediately, and you caught Shane's eye and jerked your head in Daryl's direction. Shane nodded, already involved in a conversation with Rick, and you followed after your brother to make sure his dumb ass didn't need anything done about all that blood after all. You had a feeling most of it was the other guy's, but you needed to check. 

"I think Carol has a crush on you," you said by way of greeting. 

He glanced up from whatever the hell he was doing with sticks, feathers, rocks, and the fire, and glared at you. "The fuck?" 

You shrugged, teasing smile on your lips. "I think Carol's got a crush on you." 

He made a face and turned away. "Ya just come out here to bug me about shit?" 

"Pretty much," you admitted. "How's the hand?" 

Daryl snorted and waved you off dismissively. "Had worse. I'll live. Stay away from that asshole, sis." 

"Gee, thanks, I was gonna go offer him a smoke and exchange life stories," you said flatly. "No shit, Sherlock." 

"He's dangerous," Daryl insisted. "Rick should have left him to die. His group would've if it'd been reversed." 

You sat down across the fire from him, stretching your legs out with a sigh and propping yourself up on your elbows. "Aren't going to catch me arguing there. I tried to kill him when he said he went to school with Maggie. Rick stopped me." 

"Shit," Daryl muttered. "You grow some balls there, Ace?" 

"Shut the hell up," you fired back, but you were smirking. "I've got bigger balls than you and you know it." 

"That's just weird, damn it." 

You laughed and sat back up. "You started it. What the hell are you doing, anyway?" 

"Makin' arrows," he said. "Ya'd know how if you'd paid any attention at the cabin." 

"Why in fuck's name would I want to know how?" 

He shot you a look. "I don't know, in case the fuckin' zombie apocalypse happens?"

You cracked up at that one, and he grinned back. You shifted around a little, poking at the fire with a stick and doodling in the ashes. You found yourself wishing, once again, for a bar to tend. That was easier than all this zombie shit, and when the topics got too heavy for you to play therapist anymore, you could shift on down to the next thirsty bastard in line for a fresh problem to consider.

After a pause, Daryl sighed. "You ok? Tryin' to kill someone ain't easy."

"Trying to kill him wasn't hard. Actually killing him might have been. On the other hand, he's earned it. We have to keep ourselves safe," you said with a shrug more careless than you really felt the issue. 

"Damn right, Slugger," Shane said from behind you. 

You tipped your head back to look up at him as he walked into the campsite. He ran a hand over your hair and nodded at Daryl, who nodded back. 

"They debatin'?" Daryl asked. 

Shane grimaced. "Dale's goin' around, trying to talk to everyone. He's gonna come out here too, I'm sure." 

Daryl snorted. Shane's hand tangled in your hair and you leaned against his leg, and Daryl glanced over the two of you again. His lips twitched as he shifted his focus to Shane, pulling out his buck knife to chip away at a stick clearly destined to become a bolt for his crossbow. Your eyes narrowed, because you knew that look. 

It was the look he'd shot you right before he goaded Mark Anderson into swinging at him first so he could brake your recent-ex's fucking nose after you'd found out you were pregnant. It was the look he'd given you when he'd been about to light his chemistry experiment on fire; the look he'd given you when he'd drawn a dick on Merle's face in Sharpie when your older brother had passed out on your bed one time; the look he'd given you when he'd super glued the history teacher's coffee mug to her desk and she tried to pick it up. The look he'd given you the one and only time he'd seen Mal after you two got together, and that had ended with you bleeding for the first time at Mal's hands. 

Not that Daryl knew that, and you were never going to tell him. 

"So, Shane," Daryl said, waving the stick in Shane's direction. "What exactly are you doing with my sister?" 

"Daryl," you snapped, tense as hell as you scrambled to your feet. 

Shane's hand left your hair to stroke down your back as he shrugged. "Dating her." 

Daryl regarded him steadily and nodded. "Mess her up, I'll fuck up your face." 

"Yeah, you've said that already," Shane replied. "Ace, you ok?" 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good," you muttered, trying to banish the nerves Daryl's look had shot through you. "Just wish my idiot brother would keep his nose out of my personal business." 

Daryl snorted. "Don't bring ya personal business into my camp, then. Chill, sis, I'm not gonna bust Shane's ass over anything else. Just wanted him to know where we stand. Jesus." 

"Yeah, well, I always get the shit end of the deal when you get that look," you muttered. "Forgive me for being a little tense when I see it. Brings back bad memories." 

"Aw hell, Ace, Mark deserved it," Daryl protested. "Gettin' ya knocked up like that, then bailing." 

"He bailed?" Shane said sharply. 

You closed your eyes and sighed. "Yes, he bailed. But it was high school; I don't blame him." 

"Yeah, you rarely put the blame where it belongs, do you?" Shane muttered. "Come on, Ace, I came to get you. Wanna check out the fence line and I could use some backup." 

Daryl snorted again. "Shit, man, I know you're fuckin' my sister, but can ya make it a little less obvious?" 

You groaned, scooped up a pine cone at your feet, and lobbed it at Daryl's head. "Shut up, asshole! I didn't like talking to you about my sex life when we shared a room; why in hell do you think it's up for discussion now?" 

"'Cause ya been makin' shit decisions since high school and someone's gotta watch out for you," he fired back, catching the pine cone and returning fire. "Go on, get outta my hair. I'm fine, sis. I'm not pissed anymore; I just like my fuckin' space. Go play with your boyfriend, but use some goddamn protection. And sense" 

"He's not my-" 

"Yeah, I fucking am, Slugger," Shane said lazily, his fingers tangling back up into your hair. "Told you to deal with it, didn't I? Come on, do as your brother says." 

Your response to that was pointed and non verbal, and Shane and Daryl exchanged amused looks and tried to act like they weren't laughing at you. 

"I hate you both," you informed them with as much dignity as you could muster, considering you were biting your lip to keep from smiling.


	43. Lie #43: "We're Gonna Get Help" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
major character death (cannon)   
mentions of teen pregnancy  
mentions of drug dealing/gang life  
mentions of the death penalty  
mentions of past child abuse

You wandered in the darkness, heading aimlessly toward Daryl's tent. The group had, as expected, decided to go through with it. They were killing the kid- any minute now. 

You'd volunteered to help, and been instantly shot down by Daryl and Shane, and when you'd argued hotly against the latest round of caveman sexist bullshit, Shane had taken you aside as the group dispersed, cupped your cheek in his hand, and asked you quietly to please, please stay away. 

"This ain't going to be like shooting him out there would have been, Slugger. I've- I've seen the death penalty enacted before, and it's- it's something different. It's colder, uglier; and you wouldn't think that was possible, but it is. Let me keep you from that. You got enough going on, sweetheart. Don't think I didn't notice how you reacted to Daryl earlier. I wanna talk about it tonight if you do," he added softly. 

You hadn't been able to argue with that grim look in his eyes, and he'd kissed you when you nodded and pulled you close. 

Now Rick, your brother, and your boyfriend- 

That had you stopping and shaking your head, because fucking hell. Shane Walsh was your boyfriend. It sounded so lame and high school you wrinkled your nose and rolled your eyes, but you were grinning like an idiot the longer you thought about it. Shane was your boyfriend. You were dating. 

You hadn't dated anyone, really, except Mal and Mark, and the idea of dating Shane was equal parts terrifying and delightful. 

Of course, the terrifying part could be due to the undead wandering around, you mused as lights moved from the shed toward the barn. 

You shivered slightly and leaned on a tree to watch them go in, determined not to turn away from it. Even if it was ugly and hard, it was the right choice- as Shane had put it; it was the one that kept you all alive. 

Dale had argued hard and long that it was barbaric and unnecessary, and if this was how the world was, it was a world he didn't want to be living in. Andrea had jumped ship to his side at the last minute, but that was all. Everyone else looked scared, miserable, and uncomfortable, but no one else had objected. You'd kept your mouth shut since Shane was doing enough arguing with Dale for both of you, only really bothering to speak at all when you'd squeezed Shane's hand and murmured to him that maybe he should dial it in just a little bit, if he didn't mind. 

The lights had disappeared into the barn, and you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face. That was it then. Soon enough there'd be a single gunshot, and that'd be the end of the issue once and for all. 

You hoped. 

The gunshot never came, and you were frowning at the barn when it opened and Shane came out, frog-marching a small figure in a big hat by the elbow. You winced as Daryl followed, shoving Randall toward the barn. 

Carl had followed them and Rick hadn't done it, you deduced as Rick appeared in the doorway last, leaning against it briefly before sliding the door closed. You sighed, tilted your head back against the tree, and closed your eyes. The last thing you were feeling up for was more goddamn uncertainty, but it looked like the rest of the world didn't really care what you wanted tonight. 

You'd shoved off the tree and started back toward camp when the screaming began. 

You changed direction and threw yourself into a full-out sprint, pulling out the knife on your hip as you ran. The screams intensified as you got close enough to see two figures on the ground, turning from fear and fighting noises into bone-chilling pain. 

You shifted slightly and tossed yourself at the walker, knocking it off Dale's prone form and rolling with in the grass. Your momentum ended with it on top of you, and panic had you throwing a fucking punch at its jaw- like a moron- before you rolled again and got the upper hand. 

One swift stab downward with the knife in both hands, and it stopped moving. 

You left your knife in its skull, scrambling to your feet and screaming bloody murder for Hershel as you made your way back to Dale. 

"Ace! Ace!" Daryl skidded to a halt beside you, grabbing your arm and looking over you frantically before he glanced down at Dale at your feet. "Holy- Hey! Over here!" 

"Dale, hang in there- we're gonna get help- Hershel!" you screamed again, staring at the ripped and bleeding mess of Dale's abdomen. 

Jesus goddamn Christ, you thought, stomach churning. Where the hell was- 

"Ace!" Shane grabbed you next, staring into your eyes with his hands on your cheeks. "Are you hurt? Slugger, you bit? Scratched?" 

You shook your head. "N- no. Dale," you whispered. 

Shane glanced down, swallowed, and pulled you back and away. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Rick and Hershel are gonna help him, sweetheart. Jesus, don't look at that, ok? Don't look." 

He tried to pull you against him, but you shook your head rapidly, fighting him with the need to make sure someone helped the old man. 

"Where is- oh thank God," you whispered as Hershel ran up. 

Rick was frantic, yelling questions and shouting for Glenn to run back to the house, but you saw it in Hershel's eyes as soon as he looked down at Dale. 

Dale was dying. 

You turned and buried your face in Shane's chest with a muffled sob, his arms wrapping around you automatically. 

"He's suffering." Andrea's voice sounded shattered, and you squeezed your eyes shut because of course he was. His fucking innards were on the ground where they weren't supposed to be, damn it, and- 

"Shane," Daryl's voice said, short and sharp. 

You started to push away from him, see what made your brother sound like that, but Shane tightened his grip and turned so his back was to whatever was going on. 

"Don't," he whispered when you struggled. "Ace, don't." 

"Sorry, brother," you heard Daryl say softly, followed by the single gunshot you'd been waiting for earlier. 

The bedroom door creaked open and closed softly, and you tried to stay asleep despite the noise. Then Daryl stumbled, smacked into the desk chair he never fucking bothered to push back in, and muttered a sharp curse. 

You sighed and sat up. "Where the fuck have you been?" you hissed. "Will's been in a goddamn mood today." 

"Shit. Didn't mean to wake ya." Daryl groped his way around the chair- not bothering to push it in even now- and collapsed onto his bed. "Sorry 'bout Will. Ya aight?" 

You shrugged, realized he couldn't see that, and grunted. "Got a black eye, but yeah." 

"Fuck. Sorry, sis." 

He sounded weird. "Ok, what's wrong with you?" 

"Nothin'." 

You snorted, tossed the blanket back, and headed over to frown down at him with your hands on your hips. "Bullshit. Where the fuck have you been?" 

"Merle needed a hand tonight. Don't fuckin' flip out; it was no big deal," he muttered. "I can feel ya blood pressure risin'." 

You closed your eyes and took a long, deep breath, trying to control the simmering temper that always seemed to bubble just under the surface since finding out you were pregnant. You counted backwards from ten to calm down. You made it as far as six before the words hissed out of you in a tone even you would have called bitchy. 

"Are you fuckin' kidding me, Dar? Merle's in a goddamn gang. He's dealing drugs. He's been arrested already. You're seventeen; you can be charged as a fucking adult! What the fuck do you think you're doing-" 

Daryl sat up and interrupted you, his voice just as pissed. "I know all that shit! I think I'm tryin' to scrape up some extra fuckin' cash so we can get ya taken care of somewhere ya ain't gonna get slapped around while you're fuckin' pregnant, sis! Jesus fuckin' Christ!" 

You blinked, jaw snapping closed abruptly, because that was not what you'd been expecting. In the month since taking the test, both of you had avoided the subject like the fucking plague, even when you were puking your guts up every morning and Daryl was slipping you crackers and extra food at lunch. You'd been hoping it would somehow- go away. On its own. With no decisions required from you.

Apparently your brother had been making some plans for the future. 

"Shit," you whispered, tears spilling out abruptly. "I'm- shit. I'm sorry." 

"Fuckin' A, Ace. Don't- don't fuckin'- come here," Daryl muttered, sounding vaguely panicked. He pulled you down beside him, wrapping an arm around you as you leaned onto his shoulder and sobbed. "It's aight, sis. You think me'n' Merle just gonna make ya handle everything alone? Jesus." 

"Stupid hormones," you mumbled as you cried, and he snorted. 

"Sure. 'Cause ya ain't never been an emotional little shit before now." 

"Oh, fuck you, Darrie!" 

Shane tried to keep you from looking after the gunshot, but you shoved him back to stare at your brother. Daryl handed Rick the Python, his eyes fixed on what was left of Dale. 

You shivered. "Dar?" 

He shot you a glare and came stalking your way. "You ok? You ain't bit, are you?" 

"Jesus," Rick whispered, looking like he'd just noticed the walker on the ground. "Ace, are you?" 

"No," you told them shortly. "No, I'm fine. I had my- fuck, my knife." 

"I got it, sweetheart. Daryl, why don't you take Ace over to your campsite and start packin' it up, man? There's walkers in the fields, we can't have you all the way out here anymore," Shane said firmly, running a hand over your hair. 

Daryl grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah, aight. Ace, come on." 

"What about-" you gestured toward Dale, swallowing hard and not looking at him or at Andrea kneeling at his side. 

"We'll bury him in the morning," Rick said. He pressed a hand to his eyes as he shoved the Python back into his holster. 

Daryl started hustling you away from the group, but you paused at Rick's side and gave him a hug. He jerked, looking surprise, and patted your back as you let go. 

Daryl eyed you sideways as you walked, and you reached over to loop your arm through his. "Gettin' all touchy-feely since ya hooked up with Shane, sis." 

"He's had a couple hard knocks here lately," you said with a shrug. "We all have. Daryl, are you-" 

"Don't. I'm fine." 

"Dar." 

He shot you a glare. "Ace." 

You'd reached his camp, and he shook your hand off his arm so he could start collecting his shit. You sighed and turned to the line he'd strung up, grimacing at the necklace of walker ears he'd looped over it. 

"For shit's sake, Darrie, what the hell?" 

"Don't call me fuckin' Darrie, Ace. They disguised the scent of squirrels; don't ya know nothin'?" 

You gagged dramatically. "I know a lot of shit, thanks, asshole. Most of it doesn't involve dead things, though. Hey, speaking of dead things." 

"Ace, damn it." 

"Shut up, Dar. You shot Dale," you said seriously, grabbing his hand as he tried to brush by you to get to his tent. 

He stopped, shoulders slumping briefly, before he shrugged. "Yeah. It's no big deal. He was in pain." 

"I know," you said. "Doesn't make it not a big deal." 

He sighed. "What, ya want me to blubber on your shoulder or somethin', sis? It was a mercy kill." 

"You can blubber if you want. Mostly I just want you to know I'm here and I care," you told him, and smacked a kiss on his cheek. "I love you, jerk." 

He made a face, but you saw the fond amusement in his eyes. "Don't need you to worry about me, sis." 

"Too damn bad," you shot back, letting go of his hand. "So, how much of this dead creature bullshit are you taking with you?" 

"Ya can leave the ears." 

"Thank God," you muttered, undoing the line and flinging the ears into the trees. You wound the line around your arm as you made you way to the other end. "What happened with Randall?" 

"Carl came in, told Rick to do it. Rick didn't," Daryl said shortly. 

"Ugh. Should have let me shoot him," you mumbled, tucking the line into his pack and starting to help him break down the tent. 

"Yeah. Hey, sis." 

You turned. "Hmm?" 

He leaned over and kissed your cheek. "I love ya too, Ace." 

"Dumbass. Find me if you need to talk, ok?" you muttered, and turned the conversation to what the hell the group was going to do now.


	44. Lie #44: "Romantic As All Hell, By The Way" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence

Dawn came and cleanup began in earnest. Shane, Daryl, T Dog, and Andrea rode the fence line, checking for breeches and walkers, while you helped Lori and Carol break down camp. Rick and Glenn dug a grave, and Hershel and his people were working to get their house ready for all of you to invade it. 

After the funeral, your people started loading up the truck while Rick gave orders about what was to come, setting up watches and patrols around the house. Then Rick looked at Daryl and said they'd take Randall out and send him on his way. 

"We back to that again?" you said to Shane, who grunted. 

Rick glanced at you. "It was the right plan all along. Poor execution." 

"That's an understatement," you said with a roll of your eyes. Shane ran a hand over your hair fondly. 

"Come on, Slugger. Rick wants Daryl to be his wingman, that's cool. We'll build the lookout perch." 

You made a face but didn't argue. 

You leaned against the car and stared at Shane's ass while he climbed up the windmill and started on the lookout perch. 

"You're supposed to be my spotter," he called down, amusement in his voice. 

"Oh, I'm spotting something," you muttered. 

"I heard that." 

"Hey, Dickhead?" you asked after a paused spent contemplating the way his arms looked as he hung on and nailed boards into place. "Who the hell put you in charge?" 

Shane glanced down at you, confusion evident. "Think it's pretty clear to everyone at this point that Rick's in charge, Slugger." 

"Pfft." You dismissed that with a wave and shaded your eyes to squint up at him. "I meant of you and me, asshole. You just decided we were together; now you just decided you're my boyfriend? Don't I get a say in the matter?" 

He scoffed and went back to hammering. "Like you don't like it." 

"I never said that. I just wanted to know who put you in charge." 

He grunted, leaning a little farther over than made you particularly comfortable, and you bit back the urge to tell him to be careful. "I did. One of us had to, damn it. To be fair, I thought you'd take more convincing than you did." 

Well, that was hilarious, you thought, turning bright red. Suddenly you were glad you'd brought it up now, when he couldn't see your face. "Not that I'm complaining, but we haven't really talked about things since you declared me your girl and told me to 'deal with it'. Romantic as all hell, by the way," you added dryly. 

But shit, it actually was, you admitted privately, smiling down at your feet. Something about the way he'd looked at you- that amused exasperation in his eyes; his hand on your cheek; the way he'd kissed you- had sent a wave of giddy delight straight through you. And you would gladly get eaten by a walker before you admitted that to him. 

Ok, maybe not. But there were a lot of things you'd willingly subject yourself to instead. 

"You really-" He cut off with a grunt that you looking up sharply to make sure he was still secure up there. He shot a look down at you. "You really want to have that conversation now? Damn it, sweetheart, do you ever do anything easy?" 

You shot him a sly look. "Well, I mean, it's pretty easy to get you har-" 

"Sorry to interrupt," Lori cut you off, not sounding sorry in the least. 

You didn't turn, but Shane looked over at her and the teasing smile slid from his face. "Lor," he said. "What's up?" 

"I wanted to talk to you for a minute," she said, stepping around to your side. "Hi, Ace." 

"Hey," you answered with a jerk of your chin. "My brother left yet?" 

"No, they haven't. They're still working on getting organized at the house. Shane, I- would you come down? Ace, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak to Shane alone." 

Shane sighed and glanced at you. You shrugged slightly and shoved off the car. 

"Sure. Whatever. Hey, Lori? Look, we aren't friends and that's cool, but if you try to get Shane kicked out by whispering in Rick's ear again, you'll learn just what it's like to have a Dixon as an enemy," you told her with a friendly smile fixed firmly on your lips. "See you around, Dickhead." 

You strolled away without waiting for Lori to respond, flashing a peace sign when Shane called after you to stay close to camp. 

You woke up with a hand on your hip and Shane breathing deeply behind you. You eased out of the bed, glancing at the clock and thanking God for your blackout curtains when you saw it was six am. Working nights meant sleeping odd hours, and working nights and then having truly stupendous sex when you got home meant you'd been asleep for all of an hour. Maybe less. 

You didn't like sleeping naked, alone or with someone around, so you headed to the bathroom with leggings and t shirt in hand, trying not to wake Shane up. 

This was so fucking weird, you thought as you got dressed and went for water. You'd just met the guy, really, and here you'd brought him back to your place, and... 

You bit your lip as your cheeks flushed, thinking about that 'and'. You'd done some 'and' all over the damn place. 

And it had been.... amazing. 

Dickhead had been right, you thought. He did know what he was doing. Shit, you hadn't enjoyed yourself that much- hell, maybe ever. 

You wanted to do it again. And again, and again, and again. 

You yawned and shook your head, rolling your eyes at yourself. You'd just broken up with Mal. This wasn't the start of something, you told yourself firmly. You didn't date customers. 

You also didn't sleep with customers, but you'd broken that rule, hadn't you? 

You headed back into the darkened bedroom, eyeing the man currently asleep in your bed, hogging half your pillow. 

Shane Walsh, you mused. You nudged him until he rolled over with a mumbled groan you found instantly endearing, crawled into bed, and thought about how you'd sketch him in the morning. 

If you could remember it all without reference points, it'd be shirtless, in your shower with water running down his face, his neck, his chest, and that expression he'd had, looking at you like you were the key to the whole goddamn universe. 

Oh yeah, that'd be a good one, you thought as your eyes closed and you fell back asleep almost instantly. A damn good one. 

You hauled yours and Shane's gear into the house and took over a corner of the living room, grimacing at how fucking close the quarters were going to be in here. People were going to get real acquainted, real fast. 

You pulled Shane's flannel out of his bag and wrapped it around your hips. It was warm in the house, but cool outside, and you were planning on spending as little time as possible inside. You scooped up your notebook and shoved the pencils into your back pocket and headed out toward the shed where Randall the asshole was being held again. 

You got stopped a few times along the way- Beth asked where Lori was; T Dog asked why you didn't have a gun and where you were headed, since Rick had asked him to keep up a head count; and your brother eyed you sideways and told you not to get into any trouble- and you tipped your head back, eyes closed toward the sun. 

Even with the close quarters in the house, even with Dale's gruesome death, things were good. 

Hell, things were fucking great. 

You were smiling as you approached the shed, Shane and this new thing between you on your mind. You didn't have any idea what had happened to change his mind, but holy hell were you glad. 

Of course, he'd probably still run screaming if he had any idea how far in love with him you were, you thought wryly. This whole dating thing was enough of a jump into commitment to have you eyeing him sideways if you thought about it too hard. Shane didn't do girlfriends. Shane did casual. But he was also never less than honest, so you trusted him to tell you if he'd changed his mind or if he was done. 

You'd just try not to scare the shit out of him in the meantime, you decided, and you'd enjoy the hell of it- and him- while it lasted. Life was fucking short, after all. 

You rounded the corner and froze. "Son of a- Shane! Daryl! Rick!" 

You dropped your notebook and pulled your knife, heading toward the open door when no one responded to your yells. Now you wished you'd taken the fucking gun, damn it. If the kid was setting a trap, he had the upper hand, even with you armed. 

Teenage bravado would only get you so fucking far, especially when you hadn't been a teenager in a hot minute. 

You considered running back and getting someone, since no one had their listening ears on, but time was of the essence if the kid had escaped, and if he'd set a trap you didn't want to give him the opportunity to slip away. Since you'd announced your presence all dramatically by screaming, after all. 

Fuck, you had to go in. 

You got a steady grip on the knife, turning the blade out along one forearm and bringing your hands up. You eased an eye around the doorway and did a quick scan of the building. First glance showed nothing out of the ordinary, and no tied-up punk either. You muttered under your breath about dumbasses and bad ideas and ducked inside, throwing yourself to the left and down as you did. 

You promptly picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and sheathed the knife. 

"Well, glad no one was around to witness that," you mumbled, scanning the completely empty shed. There was a chair on its side, a blindfold beside it, and no sign of how the hell the kid had gotten out. You sighed and headed for the door again. 

You took a deep breath, rounded the corner closest to camp, and let loose the loudest shriek you could muster. "Shane! Dar!" 

Two seconds later, you saw Daryl and Rick round the porch at a dead run, and you waved your arms. 

"Ace!" Shane's voice carried over the field, fear lacing it, and you winced. 

Maybe you hadn't thought that one out fully. 

Shane reached you first, gun in hand and eyes cold. "Ace, you ok? Shit." 

"I'm good. Sorry; screaming was easiest," you apologized instantly, even as he swept an arm out to pull you back and behind him. "He's not in-" 

"Sis!" Daryl's voice cut over yours and you sighed. 

"Definitely didn't think that through," you muttered as Daryl appeared crossbow first, with Rick and his Python up and out as well. "Sorry; yelling was the fastest way to get everyone's attention. It appears our prisoner has escaped." 

Daryl shot you a look as Rick cussed sharply and stuck his head into the shed. "Daryl!" he snapped. 

Shane had his gun trained on the woods, half in front of you, and you set a hand on his arm. 

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare the shit out of you," you mumbled. "I'm fine though." 

"You go in there?" he snapped, jerking his head toward the shed. "Without a gun? Why the hell aren't you carrying?" 

You felt your temper stir and tried to keep it in check. "I don't like guns, damn it. Yes, I went in there. If he was setting an ambush, he'd have gotten away clean if I'd just turned around and gone back to get help." 

"So instead you offer yourself up on a silver platter?" Shane snarled, eyes still roving the trees as Daryl and Rick talked in low voices inside the shed. "Damn it, Ace." 

"Damn it yourself, Shane," you shot back. That stung. Why the hell did he insist on assuming you couldn't handle your shit? "I can fucking take care of myself." 

"Yeah, I know, but you should have a damn gun-" he started. 

"He headed into them trees. Ace, you see anything when you got here? Movement, anything?" Daryl cut Shane off, coming out of the shed with his eyes on the ground. 

You glared at Shane's profile before thinking back. "No, nothing. I saw the door open, yelled for you guys, dropped my notebook, and went in to make sure he wasn't laying in wait in there." 

"Ya went in there with just a fuckin' knife?" Daryl snapped, eyes shooting to you. 

"Oh for-" you started. 

Shane's snort cut you off. "That's what I said. Tell your sister to start carryin' a fucking gun." 

"She ain't gonna," Daryl said, rolling his eyes as he followed tracks you couldn't see toward the trees. 

You moved to follow him and Shane grabbed your arm. "I don't think so, Ace." 

"The fuck?" you snarled. "We need to find Randall!" 

"Yeah, we do. Three of us'll handle it. You head back to the house, let everyone know what's happened," he said with a nod. 

"Oh my god, you have got to be kidding me." You crossed your arms and tossed your head, leveling him with a half-amused, half-incredulous glare. 

"Shit, shouldn't've done that," Daryl muttered. "Sorry, man." 

"Shut the fuck up, Darrie," you snapped. "I'm pissed at you too. Shane, you do not have any right-" 

"Can we put this discussion on hold and get back to the escaped prisoner, please?" Rick interrupted. "We need to do a head count of everyone. Make sure he doesn't have any hostages." 

All the fight drained out of you immediately. "Oh God." 

Everyone was present and accounted for, so the search could begin in earnest. 

At least, it could have except for one little problem: Shane Walsh's stupid overprotective Neanderthal attitude. 

"Damn it, Shane! I'm going!" you snapped, arms crossed and eyes hard. "You do not get to tell me what to do just because we're suddenly dating now or some shit. " 

"No, I can tell you not to go because it's dangerous and you don't want to take a fucking gun!" he shot back, adding shells to his pocket for his shotgun. 

You snorted. "I can take care of myself." 

"No."

Daryl muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'your funeral, man', and you flipped him off as he walked by you. He kissed your cheek in response and you sighed, softening. Then he ruined it by opening his big fat mouth. 

"Ya boyfriend's right, Ace. Ya ain't goin' without a gun." 

You snorted as Shane groaned, spun on your heel, and stalked into the trees. They could fucking watch you.


	45. Lie #45: "It Is. It Is Time." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
minor character death (cannon)

Stubborn woman wouldn't listen to fucking reason. Shane stalked through the trees, alternating between glaring at her and glaring at the forest. 

Where the hell was the little bastard? Darkness was coming, and if they didn't find him, he could lead his pack of thirty rapist motherfuckers back to the farm. 

Daryl had told him Randall's story, about coming across a man and his teenage daughters. Shane's blood had boiled, and he'd damn near gone in and killed Randall with his bare fucking hands. Daryl had snorted and offered him a knife, making a suggestion about what to do to the little punk bitch's dick first that had turned Shane's stomach. 

Luckily- or maybe not, considering- Carl had come wandering up and started asking questions about the kid and what the plan was now that Rick hadn't, in fact, executed him. Shane was still livid at Carl for sneaking out to the barn and at Lori for not keeping a better eye on her fucking son, but Shane was trying to actually listen to Ace and to Rick and not be an asshole about things like that. 

Lori sure didn't make it easy, though, coming around and asking to talk to him. She'd apologized and told him maybe some of what she'd felt had actually been real, and she thought the baby might be his after all. Shane had nodded, thanked her, and sent her on her way wondering what fucking game she was playing now. 

Whatever, he thought. If it made things easier between him and Rick, then he was happy about it. 

He wasn't happy about Ace wandering out ahead of him without so much as a fucking gun, and he grabbed at the sleeve of his flannel shirt she'd stolen again. 

"Slugger, would you get behind me, damn it," he hissed. 

"Don't be a caveman," she shot back. 

"Trying to keep your ass safe-" 

She rolled her eyes and shot up her middle finger at him. "My ass is just fine and you know it, damn it." 

Shane couldn't help the grin. "Well, shit, Ace, you're not wrong there." 

Rick made a strangled noise, clearly hiding laughter. Ace rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Shane stepped a little closer, biting his lip and giving her a look. 

She groaned and shoved at his shoulder. "Not the damn puppy eyes. You know I can't handle the- shit."

He kissed her until Rick cleared his throat. "Not that this isn't an adorable moment, but shouldn't we get back to looking for the escaped prisoner before he kills us all?" 

Ace grimaced. "Should have let me shoot him, Rick." 

"No, I shouldn't," Rick insisted calmly, and Shane relaxed a little when Ace fell in just behind him instead of shoving her way to the front. "Though I do have some questions about just how he managed to get out of a locked shed, in cuffs, and nobody saw anything." 

"What, you think I had something to do with it?" Ace asked dryly. 

Shane stiffened, shooting a glare at Rick. "The fuck, man." 

Rick held up a hand for peace. "No. No, I don't. I'm just- I'm just curious is all." 

"Curious about what, man? Say what you mean," Shane demanded. "Just ask what you wanna ask." 

Ace said his name, her hand on his arm to get him to calm down, but Shane was pissed. He loved this man, and he wanted to fix things and get his brother back. But for fuck's sake, between him and Lori, Shane was tired of feeling used, manipulated, and doubted every second of every day. If Rick wanted to know if Shane had killed Randall- or let him escape- then Rick could damn well be man enough to fucking ask. 

Shane stood and stared Rick down in the gloom of evening on the edge of full dark. Rick sighed and shifted his weight, finally shrugging and meeting Shane's eyes. 

"Did you kill him?" he asked. 

"For fuck's sake," Ace muttered. 

Shane sighed and ran a hand over his head. "You know, man, I really- I really miss the days when you didn't look at me like I'm gonna come unhinged at any minute. No. I did not do anything with that rapist bastard. I don't have any idea how he got out, but I do know that we need to find him." 

"We do," Rick agreed, but Shane wasn't done. 

"And- and here's another thing, Rick. What the hell is goin' on with your wife? First she's whispering in your ear how I'm all dangerous and shit, after her and Carl. Makin' it out like I said you couldn't take care of them when that isn't how it was. You think I don't know you'd walk through fuckin' fire for those two? Man, you- that's crap. I was at your side every step of the way," he hissed, gesturing broadly. 

"Shane," Ace said, and he heard the cautious edge to her voice. "Shane, is this really the time?" 

"You know what, Slugger? It is. It is the time, because Lori comes over to me today and is talking about how she wishes things had been different and she knows she crossed a line and maybe what she'd felt for me was a little real after all- not that I fuckin' believe that or give a damn, man; I don't want her- and that's all well and good. I can nod and say thanks and go about my damn business because Lori's feelings are between her and you, my friend. But then she tells me she wishes I'd taken care of Randall on my own, while we were out there. What the hell is up with that, brother? 'Cause I'm doin' everything I can here to give you guys space, to make right what I broke, but I think- I think I'm just being played, man," Shane ranted. 

Rick stalked ahead without a word and Shane groaned, watching his retreating back. Ace stepped closer to him and ran her fingers down his cheek. 

"You didn't tell me that." 

He snorted. "Haven't had a chance. What she wanted to talk to me about this afternoon. Shit's been moving on fast-forward since last night." 

She grimaced. "Yeah. That's fair. I warned her." 

"Warned who? About what?" 

Ace turned to follow Rick, her voice hard as she called over her shoulder. "Come on, Dickhead. I warned Lori not to do any more whispering, or she'd find out what having a Dixon as an enemy looks like. Guess she's gonna find out now." 

Shane rubbed a hand over the back of his head again, wondering just how much hell he was in for from both of them.

By the time Shane caught up to them, all thoughts of looking for Randall seemed to have gone out the window. 

Ace was full fighting temper, gesturing wildly out in the middle of the field to a slightly bewildered-looking Rick, her voice pitched low but hard. Shane figured she was still in enough control he didn't need to worry about her pulling the knife at her hip on Rick like she had on Andrea, but he still decided it was best to hustle. 

Especially when Rick raised one hand toward her, clearly attempting to placate her, and turned his stubborn bastard look on full-force. Ace was unimpressed, knocking his hand away when he reached for her shoulder. 

Her voice rose so he could hear her clearly and he muttered to himself as he moved a little faster. 

"No, Rick, just no! Are you seriously telling me you think she's fuckin' right? God damn it-" 

"I didn't say that; calm down-" 

"I will not! I don't care that she's your wife, Rick, that's- that's Shane! Lori's been lying to you since the beginning, and you're tryin' to act like-" 

Shane grabbed at Ace's hand as she gestured wildly. "Hey, Slugger, take a step back, sweetheart." 

"No!" she snapped. Her eyes flashed and even in the dark Shane could see her cheeks were flushed with temper. "I warned her, damn it. This manipulative, petty, backstabbing bullshit has gone fuckin' far enough. I don't know if she's just feelin' fuckin' guilty or what, but-" 

"Dad? Uncle Shane?" 

Ace's mouth clicked shut instantly and she winced. All three of them turned to see Carl watching them. 

"What's going on? Did you find him?" Carl asked. 

Shane rubbed a hand over his head. "What are you doin' out here, little man? Shouldn't you be in the house with your mom?" 

Rick reached for Carl and started to speak, but Ace grabbed Shane's hand and Rick's sleeve, shoving them toward the house in the distance. 

"Run," she hissed. 

"What the-" Shane started, and she waved him into silence with wild eyes. 

Then he heard the moans and turned to look. 

"Oh fuck. Fuck! Ace, you stay right behind me, do you understand me, damn it?" he hissed. 

Rick had Carl at his back and he and Shane shared a grim look as they started running. They weren't going to make it, and Shane knew it. This shit was going to get ugly real fast. 

"I can handle myself, Dickhead," Ace hissed. 

Shane rolled his eyes as she set a hand on his shoulder and stayed glued to his back. "You got a knife at a grenade fight, sweetheart; just do as I say."

"Oh, bite me, Walsh." 

The walkers were all around them now, and they paused by a tree to breathe and regroup. Shane and Rick exchanged another of those looks, and Shane searched frantically for a way out. 

"Barn," Ace said. "It's the only choice." 

Rick nodded. "Carl, stay close and stay quiet. Let's go." 

Shane and Rick hustled the other two into the barn and got the door closed steps ahead of the walkers. 

"Hey, guys, big-ass hole in the side," Ace hissed as they shoved a bar through the door. 

Shane groaned. "Son of a bitch." 

"Shane," Rick's tone was considering, his cop voice, and Shane glanced over at him. Rick gestured into the barn and Shane felt something- some long-term partnership born of thousands of crises averted side by side just like this- snap back into place. 

Suddenly, with just his name and a gesture, he could read Rick's mind and knew his plan. "Yeah," Shane agreed, and headed for the cans. 

"What the hell?" Ace mumbled. 

"Carl, Ace- up the ladder," Rick hissed, grabbing the can Shane handed to him. 

Shane glanced at Ace as he pried the lid off the gas can. She shook her head as she brushed by him. "Sorry, Dickhead. Someone's gotta mind the gap." 

Shane cursed steadily as she pulled her knife and plunged it into the skull of a dead bastard who'd discovered the hole in the wall. He wanted to argue, but she was right. She dropped it and waited to see if any of the others would notice, knife out and a determined set to her shoulders. 

Carl scrambled up, and Rick and Shane worked back to back, splashing gas around the barn. Ace took out two more curious motherfuckers while they did, then Shane hissed for her to leave it and get up there; they were as ready as possible. 

He waited until she was already up the ladder before glancing at Rick. "Up you go, brother. I'll get the doors." 

"Shane, no-" Rick started, but Shane was already moving and yelling. 

"Hey! Hey, you ugly bastards! If you want it, come on in and get it!" 

He heard Ace yell his name, fear in her voice that ripped at his soul, but he didn't look at her. He rattled the doors instead, keeping an eye on the walkers stumbling through the hole in the side of the barn. They got closer and closer and Shane knew he was pushing it. Especially when Rick's voice joined Ace's in frantically calling his name. 

He decided he'd gotten enough of their attention, tossed open the doors, and hauled ass back to the ladder. 

"Go, go, go!" he yelled up to Rick and Ace as he dodged a walker who'd gotten just a little closer than he was comfortable with, batting aside reaching hands and shoving it back into one of its rotting friends. 

He made it to the ladder, scrambling up while Ace stood at the top with her face pale and set. Shane could see the way her hands shook as she held one down to him, hauling him up even as he felt the sudden, searing heat from below that meant Rick had dropped the lighter. He scrambled to his feet and had an armload of Ace, her hands running over him as she checked for bites or scratches without a word. 

"Sorry, Slugger," he whispered, grabbing at her hands, but she wrenched free to pace a few steps away. 

Shane winced again. He was going to catch hell for this, but it was working. Zombie bastards were burning and none of them were climbing the ladder so far. He and Rick looked at each other again, then down to the barn going up in flames faster than Shane, at least, had really anticipated. 

"Ok, you fucking asshole, what's the next part of your big plan? This hayloft is prime fodder as well." Ace snapped it, her tone hard and cold like Shane had only heard it a few times before. 

"This way," Rick said, pushing Carl ahead of him. "Out through here and down the back. Hopefully it'll be clear." 

It wasn't clear. There were walkers everywhere, and Shane and Rick were starting to take aim to pick as many off as they could when Jimmy pulled the RV around. 

Shane brought up the rear, just behind Ace with her glaring his way every few seconds until they reached the ground and she slapped a hand on his shoulder and stayed tucked at his back like before. 

Rick had Carl and they made their way to the front of the RV, only to see the blood spurt over the window as walkers got the kid. 

"Shane!" Ace said, starting toward the door of the RV, but Shane wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back. 

"Too late. It's too late, Slugger, come on. We gotta go," he whispered grimly.


	46. Lie #46: "Only Because You Play Them All The Damn Time" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic abuse/violence  
mentions of past child abuse

Shane's leg bounced as he sat in the hard hospital chair at her side. Machines beeped in the background, though thankfully she wasn't hooked up to any. They'd do a head scan when she woke up, he figured. 

Not that they'd tell him anything. He wasn't family. 

He didn't know how to get in contact with her brothers, he thought suddenly, and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Some friend he was. 

She hadn't woken up yet, but the nurse who'd stitched her forehead had patted his hand and told him not to worry about it. Shane had smiled tightly and kept his mouth shut, because God only knew what was coming out if he opened it right then. 

Shane leaned forward and took her hand, just to reassure himself she was there. His phone buzzed in his pocket for the fourth time, and he figured it was Rick and maybe he should do something about that. He'd woken Rick up in the middle of the night and scared the shit out of him, after all. And Rick had come through for him.

Problem was, Shane didn't know what to tell Rick. He knew what he suspected. He knew what all the evidence pointed toward in bright neon colors. But he didn't know for sure. He wouldn't know for sure until Ace opened those damn eyes and looked at him and told him. 

Shane ruthlessly pushed back the fear that Ace wouldn't wake up. People got head trauma all the time and were fine. She had a concussion- that was a given- but the cut hadn't been bad. Just bloody, like most head wounds were. She was stable and they figured she was just being stubborn about it, staying out this long. 

"Like usual, huh, Slugger?" Shane whispered, reaching up to brush hair back from her face. "Too damn stubborn to tell me he was more than just your average wannabe asshole. Too damn stubborn to say 'hey, Shane, I need your help'. Shit. I need you to wake up, Ace. Come on." 

She didn't, and Shane's heart rate wouldn't settle. He wanted to pace, but he didn't want to let go of her hand. Hell, he didn't want to take his damn eyes off her. 

He scooted the chair forward instead, so he could lean his elbows on the bed and press her hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to look back and see if there'd been signs he missed. 

Jesus Christ. She'd shrugged off a couple black eyes as accidents running from cops or mishaps while practicing a bottle toss. Shane had never known her to miss a bottle toss in the Lullaby once, but that had to come from somewhere, right? So that seemed reasonable. 

There'd been tension he didn't like, little things that made him on edge, but he'd always chalked it up to Mal being an asshole. Like when he'd been at Ace's one day and saw that painting she'd been doing, something with moody watercolors that he'd stared at for a long time because it'd been so damn soothing. Then two days later, it was gone, and when he'd asked about it, her eyes had slid from his. She said it got knocked over and damaged, and Shane had wondered if Mal had done it in a snit. 

Now he wondered if Mal had knocked her down with it.

And there'd been that phone call last year, after the picture of glass and shit all over her floor when she'd found him with someone in her bed. She'd said she was cleaning it up, and he'd figured the way she sounded was just because she was tired and emotional, but- 

Shane wanted to punch something. His hands actually ached with the desire, and he was considering the wall a little too good of a target. She needed to wake up. She had to wake up, and soon, because he was going to lose his damn mind wondering if he'd missed something this important by just not noticing. 

He hoped he was wrong. He hoped to Christ there was some other explanation for how she'd ended up bloody and why Malcolm fucking Hall's van had peeled out like a bat out of hell. Shane just couldn't picture a world in which there was. 

Her hand tightened in his and she groaned. 

Shane's eyes snapped open. "Slugger?" he whispered, leaned over her. 

He ran the fingers of his free hand down her cheek- the one that didn't have a goddamn hand print on it- and she turned into his touch. He cupped her cheek in his palm and pressed a kiss to the hand he held in his. 

"Shane?" she mumbled. "My head hurts." 

Shane was crying and he didn't know when he'd started that. He let out a long, hard sigh. "I bet, sweetheart. Come on, open those eyes and look at me." 

She made a face with her eyes stubbornly closed. "I don't think that's gonna help my head."

Shane gave a watery laugh. "Probably not, but it'll help me." 

She groaned again and cracked one eye open at a time. When she blinked a couple times and focused on his face, he cracked the tiniest smile. 

"Hey, Slugger. Scared the shit out of me, girl." 

"Hey, Dickhead. What'd I do? Am I in the hospital? And who has the Tylenol?" she asked, making another face. She lifted the hand not currently clutched in his and poked at her face. 

"Stop that," he snapped. "Leave those stitches alone. Yeah, you're in the hospital. I'll call the nurse in a minute, ok? I just- sweetheart, who did this to you?" 

Shane knew better. He should have given her some time. But he couldn't- his mind was whirling and he had to know. He needed to know if his suspicions were correct and it was what he thought it was. Or if it wasn't, he needed to get Atlanta PD looking into finding whoever it was. 

'Cause whoever had hurt her was going pay. He'd make sure of it. 

Her eyes slid from his and her face went cautiously blank before she shrugged. "I don't really remember anything," she said, brow furrowing like she was thinking hard. "I must have just-" 

"Don't say you tripped," Shane interrupted her. "Don't. Don't give me that shit. Ace. Did Mal hit you?" 

She sighed and Shane's stomach rolled. She wouldn't meet his eyes as she shrugged again. "It's no big deal, Shane." 

Shane didn't think he'd ever been so goddamn grateful to see an ER nurse in his life, because rage was making him shake. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't start screaming right here, right now, so he nodded along when the nurse told him she was taking Ace for the head scan and Shane would need to go back to the waiting room. 

Shane leaned over and brushed his lips to Ace's, not caring that half the staff here thought they were together. "I'll see you in a bit, Slugger. Think hard so they can see it." 

She rolled her eyes, still not quite meeting his. "You're an asshole, Dickhead." 

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. 

He pulled out his phone on the way to his Jeep and called Rick first. He had some things to do at the PD, and she'd be back there for awhile. It was as good a time as any. 

Somehow, they made it to the house. The old bastard stood like a Southern gentleman in a private quail club, loading his shotgun alone in the face of the oncoming horde. 

Rick took out the walker at Hershel's back and started screaming about Lori, but Shane was focused on taking a good look around and all the vehicles that weren't there. 

"Bike's gone," Ace whispered. 

Shane glanced at her, right at his side with her bloody knife clenched in her hand. She'd proven she damn well could take care of herself with that thing, but this was still the last fucking straw. Shane was getting her a gun when they made it out of this mess. 

Speaking of which, he thought grimly. "Rick, man, we gotta go!" 

"Come on. Come on," Rick urged, grabbing Hershel and practically dragging the old man toward the truck. 

Shane and Ace followed along, climbing into the backseat as walkers streamed in from all sides. Rick floored it, hands tight on the wheel and his eyes meeting Shane's in the mirror. Shane nodded to Rick, Rick nodded back, and Shane had the strangest feeling that just like that, they were back. 

He'd take it, however it came about. 

Ace turned and slapped him across the face. 

"Jesus!" Shane yelped, and everyone in the front seat turned to look. "What was that for?" 

She glared at him in the barely-there light. "What was that for? You tell me I can't handle myself but you come three inches from getting yourself bit because you pull some fucking suicidal self-sacrifice shit? Are you kidding me?" 

Shane winced. "I'm fine, Ace." 

"Not when I get through with you, you won't be. You and your goddamn hero complex! I can handle myself, with or without a fucking gun, and I swear to God, Shane Walsh, if you ever scare me like that again, I'll- I'll-" 

"Shit," Shane muttered, and reached for her as her eyes filled and she pressed her hands to her face. "Come here, Slugger. It's ok. We're ok." 

Rick and Hershel turned back around politely as Ace collapsed against his chest. Shane pulled her close, stroked a hand over her hair, and rested his chin on her head. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. Had to be done," he whispered. 

"Bullshit," she muttered back. "Oh, God, Shane. Shane, Daryl. And Lori and the baby, and Carol and-" 

"I know. It's ok. We'll find them. I promise. The bike wasn't there, so you know Daryl's fine," Shane reassured her, trying not to think too hard about Lori and his baby. They were fine. They had to be. 

"Oh my God, I- I just slapped you- Shane, I-" She shoved back from him, her voice shaking the same as her hands. 

Shane chuckled, reaching out to tug lightly on her hair. "Slugger, you barely touched me. Don't worry about it." 

She shook her head, hands to her face. "No, I- I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that; I'm-" 

Shane grabbed at her hands. "Stop it. Ace. Stop it. Doesn't matter." 

"Of course it matters, damn it! I get pissed and I try to hurt people, just like fucking Will! Don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter, Shane," she snapped. 

Fuck, he thought. "We can talk that out right now if you want, but it'd probably be best to wait until we get a minute alone, sweetheart," he said slowly. 

She glanced in the front seat, where Rick and Hershel were trying to look like they weren't hearing every single word, and Carl slumped between them with his head down. She sighed. 

"Shit. Oh God. Shit. What are we- what are we gonna do? Rick, where are we going?" she asked, sounding more like herself. 

Shane pulled her back against him and she didn't resist, curling up on the seat so close she was practically in his lap. He was fine with it, and her fingers tangled in his when he wrapped his arm around her. 

Rick glanced in the mirror at Shane. "Highway?" he asked. 

Shane blinked, surprised Rick was actually asking his opinion. He thought about it and nodded. "Makes sense. Everyone knows where it is, we left those supplies for Sophia. Good a place to start as any, right?" 

Rick nodded and made a left turn. 

Shane closed his eyes as Ace shivered slightly in his arms, and tried not to feel bad about thanking all his lucky stars that she was here with him right now. If she'd stayed behind like he'd asked- 

Shane wasn't going to think about that either. In fact, he wasn't going to think at all, he decided. He'd just hold her.

Shane sipped his overpriced draft and winced when the music changed. He glanced around the trendy hipster bar and wondered what the fuck he was doing here. Twenty-somethings in short, tight skirts, barely there shirts, and so damn much jewelry they could probably be seen from space ground on the dance floor against men in fitted jeans with topknots and carefully groomed beards and glasses with no lenses. Others sat on bar stools or at tables, on their phones by themselves or showing things to each other, or gesturing around with their glasses in hands and earnestly pretentious expressions. 

Or maybe Shane was just in a bad mood. Either way, he felt like the biggest country bumpkin in the damn joint, and he was already missing the welcoming, traditional bar feel of the Whiskey Lullaby. He grimaced at the next sip, because this thing the bartender had called a stout had him wondering if the man knew any damn thing at all. 

Seriously, this was hell. 

"Hey, drinks!" Ace sounded pleased as she slid onto the stool beside him, scooping up her own overpriced drink. She'd ordered something called a Southern Bondage, which had made Shane snort and her flip him off. 

She took a sip, frowned, sniffed it, and sipped again. "Ok, that's- that's just- Jesus, do I taste pineapple in here? Holy fuck. This is why I stick to beer when I go out. Or Irish neat." 

"Beer's not much better," he said with a nod toward his stein. "That seem like a stout to you?" 

She sipped it and mock-gagged. "Good Lord. What in the hell is Jason thinking? I'm going to give him so much shit over this tomorrow night." 

Shane laughed and they both drank again, Ace's eyes now cruising over the place. 

"So," Shane asked slowly. "Want to talk about it?" 

Ace grimaced and downed half her drink in one long go. "Nope. I do not." 

"This is your what? Sixth breakup this year?" 

"Eighth," she muttered. 

Shane scoffed and shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me with this shit, sweetheart." 

"He's-" 

"I know, he's brooding and artsy and thrives on the drama and I don't get it," Shane snapped, getting annoyed with the constant argument. "Ace, that's bullshit. He's stringing you along, and you're letting him. You think it's gonna get better if Grave Behavior makes it into the big time? 'Cause I don't." 

Ace was staring at her hands and she sighed. "I know. Ok? I know. I'm- I'm a fucking pushover. I give in every time. But Shane, please. This place is a hipster wet dream, sure, but I'm out with my best friend. I don't wanna think about Mal tonight." 

She turned big, puppy eyes on him and Shane couldn't resist. 

"Fine," he said, rolling his own. "I won't say anything else. What do you want to talk about then, Slugger?" 

"How about- Oh!" She cut off as the song changed, practically bouncing in place on the stool. "I love this song!" 

Shane watched her sway in her seat to the drum line, lips moving as the first verse started. "Aight. Come on," he demanded, rising and holding out a hand. 

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Come where?" 

"With me. We're gonna show these damn hipster freaks what dancing looks like," he said with a wink. 

She tossed back her head and laughed, grabbing his hand and letting him lead her out to the dance floor. Shane spun her around and yanked her to him, wrapping his arm around her waist and putting a series of ballroom dance classes- taken on a dare, thanks Rick- to good use, along with hours spent in places like this. 

The best way to impress a woman, Shane had found, was to be able to dance. 

Ace grinned as Shane spun her again, his hands on her hips as he pulled her so her back was against his chest. She started moving immediately, her arm wrapping up around his neck and her fingers curling in his hair. Her hips moved against him as if separate from the rest of her body, and Shane found himself wondering how the hell she did that shit, like he did any time they hit the dance floor together. Shane could feel the eyes on them from around the room, but he didn't care. 

He leaned into her ear and whispered. "Everyone in this place thinks we're together and I'm the luckiest damn man alive, Slugger. You need to be done with his ass for good and recognize what you're worth." 

She sighed, twisting in his arms and doing some complicated roll of her whole damn body against his that made his mouth a little dryer than it should have- he was human, she was all sultry movements pressed against him; fucking sue him why don't you?- and rolling her eyes at him. One hand stayed in his hair, the other slid up to cup his cheek as they moved to the music, and Shane leaned his forehead on hers. 

"It's a hell of a lot more than he gives you, by the way," Shane told her seriously. Her eyes closed, but he was determined to say what he had to say so they could just have fun and enjoy the night. "He doesn't treat you right, and I think you know as well as I do that he never will. You deserve someone who doesn't make you feel like you're on a fucking roller coaster. You deserve someone who makes you feel safe and valued, Ace. You're a damn queen, and he treats you like one of his whore groupies. You're too goddamn good for that shit. Don't take him back this time. Just- think about it. Now come on, girl. Let's make some hipsters jealous as hell." 

She laughed as he pulled her into a salsa move that translated well to nearly every dance floor, adjusting with ease when he dipped her down and flipping her hair so it flew everywhere, sexy and disheveled, he pulled her back up. 

She got that evil look in her eye that said Shane was probably going to end up regretting the challenge, and the next thing he knew, he was struggling to keep up with her and they were both laughing their asses off. 

Three songs later, Shane had sweat running down his back and he knew he was going to regret this in the morning when his feet were aching as he crammed them into his boots. But the music switched to something slow and sweet, and Shane pulled Ace close so she leaned her head on his shoulder, held her hand in his, and kissed her forehead as they swayed. It was one of those sugary-sweet pop songs she loved so much, and he teased her gently about it. 

"You like it and you know it," she shot back smugly. "You know every Taylor Swift and Adele song I do, and some Ed Sheeran that I don’t." 

He scoffed. "Only because you play them all the damn time." 

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter how. You like it." 

They fell silent, and he spun her like Cinderella at the ball, watching her face light up as he tucked her back against him.

"Shane?" she said during the second verse. 

"Hmmm?" 

She kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his in a way that made his blood pressure kick up an extra notch. He took a breath and reminded himself that this was his best friend, not a date. Then she smiled at him, somehow happy and sad at the same time, and it wasn't that hard to focus on the friendship. 

"What was that for?" he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out her expression. 

She shrugged. "Everything. You're always here. I don't know what I'd do without you, Dickhead." 

Shane chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. You just like how I can swing you around the dance floor." 

"Well, yeah. But I'm serious, Shane. I'm so glad you wandered into the Lullaby and decided to make an ass of yourself," she teased. 

He groaned. "Am I ever gonna live that down?" 

"I doubt it." 

He shook his head as she laid her head back on his shoulder and held her close for the rest of the song.

No one else was on the highway. 

He could see the strain in all of them, waiting for people they loved who might, Shane forced himself to admit, never come. Carl grew increasingly frantic, and Shane did his best along with Rick to keep the kid composed. 

Ace looked pale and exhausted as the sun came up and no one else came. 

About the time Shane had completely given up- and Hershel as well- they heard the rumble of an engine that had Ace shooting to her feet with wide eyes and groping for Shane's hand. 

Shane leaned his head on her shoulder when the convoy came up the highway and hopped the median. Lori came spilling out of the truck, running to Carl and Rick. Beth, Maggie, and Hershel crashed into each other as well, with Glenn and T Dog leaning on vehicles and watching the reunions. Carol hugged Lori and Maggie, and Ace stood shaking her head and glaring at her brother. 

Daryl shot her a smirk. "Come blubber then, sis. Ya aight?" 

"I love you too, Darrie," she shot back, but she sniffed back tears and ran to hug him tightly.

They'd lost Patricia, Jimmy, and Andrea to the walkers, but somehow they'd all found each other. Rick glanced at Shane as they started discussing plans, Ace's fingers wound through his, and Shane wondered just how the fuck they'd come through that nightmare with as few losses as they had. Guilt grumbled at him, but Ace leaned her cheek on his shoulder and Shane knew it didn't matter what else they lost, if she, her crazy redneck brother, and the Grimes' family made it through, Shane would count it as a win.


	47. Lie #47: "Mostly You, Though" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
smut-adjacent  
references to past domestic violence/abuse  
references to past child abuse  
references to infertility/miscarriage

Shane whistled and looped his finger through the air twice, pointing to the left. You nodded, waited for two beats, and he kicked in the door. 

You ducked left, he ducked right, and you headed through the house with your gun in one hand and your knife in the other. You heard three rapid, suppressed shots from the other end, followed by another whistle so you knew he was ok. You found one dead guy in the kitchen, turning slowly to look at you, and you darted forward and sank your knife into its temple. 

You shoved your gun back into your holster, wiped the knife on the dusty curtains, and sheathed it as well. Then you set to work opening cabinets and collecting what you could find. 

It'd been months, by your loose count, since you'd left the farm. Shane had flat refused to let you get away without carrying a gun anymore, and the holster and Glock had- much to your dismay- become an extension of you. It'd been inevitable, since Rick had declared that everyone who had a gun and could would carry, though ammo was to be conserved at all costs. 

Rick had declared a lot of things, actually, and very little of it bugged you. The others felt differently, but you didn't care. Shane had put it best- the right choice was the one that kept you alive, and so far, Rick had kept you all alive. 

Maybe hiding the fact that everyone turned when they died wasn't a decision you agreed with, but the others had been pissed enough about it- especially Lori for some reason- that you'd kept your mouth shut. So had Shane, and when you'd curled up in his lap that first night after the farm fell, he'd whispered to you that he'd wondered, ever since you'd tried to leave Randall the first time and he hadn't seen any bites on the cops there. 

Rick declaring that it wasn't a democracy anymore had really stirred the hornet's nest, with you, Shane, and Daryl seeming to be the only ones in the group not bothered by the notion. Shane had shrugged and said Rick had been calling the shots since he'd come back anyway and Shane was fine with it. 

"Rick's the brains in our marriage anyway," he'd joked to you, and you'd rolled your eyes. You knew damn well that wasn't true. Shane just idolized Rick the way Carl idolized Shane. 

You'd been running in circles all winter, though, and it was wearing on everyone. Herds were roaming the area constantly, cutting off avenues of escape as you'd searched for safety. There never seemed to be any, and there certainly wasn't enough food, you thought grumpily as you opened cabinets in the run-down kitchen.  
Jesus, had you been here before already? There was nothing, damn it. Nothing. 

You rose on your toes to open an upper cabinet near the fridge and hands snaked around you from behind, pulling you down and back against a warm body. 

You smiled as Shane pressed a kiss to your neck, leaning back into him. "All good?" you whispered. 

"Mhhmm. You?" 

You nodded. "Nothing so far, though." 

He grunted, lips still on your neck. You shivered when he ran his tongue over your skin. 

"Stop that, Dickhead; I'm gross," you protested. 

He snorted. "You think I give a shit, sweetheart? We all are. How long's it been since we were alone? Makin' out in dark corners is great and all, but..." 

Your head fell back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as he bit lightly at your now-thundering pulse, his hands slipping under your shirt and trailing up. "Fair point, but- God, Shane- walkers?" 

He paused, his fingers caressing your ribs lightly as he thought. You shivered again, biting back a moan. 

"Guess you'll just have to be quiet, huh?" he whispered in your ear, siding his hands up the last heart-pounding centimeters to your breasts. 

You let out his name in a groan as you grabbed at the counter in front of you so your legs didn't just give way completely between the malnutrition and his hands. 

He laughed in your ear, sounding so damn self-satisfied you scowled and started to break away from him. He didn't let you, spinning you around instead to back you up against the counter. His mouth found yours, hot and urgent and needy as the hands once again travelling your body. 

You threw caution to the winds with a muttered oath and kissed him back with equal fever, your own hands busy now. He grunted and picked you up, sitting you on the counter while you bit at his ear and tugged his shirt from his pants so you could ghost your fingers along the muscles in his stomach. You felt him clench beneath your hands and got some lazy satisfaction of your own, knowing you could make him crazy with just a touch or two same as he could you. He let out a bitten-off groan of his own as you ran one finger lightly down his hipbone and hooked it under his belt buckle, tugging to pull him closer. 

"Thought we had to be quiet, Walsh," you teased. 

"Shut up, Slugger. Actually, no. Make all the damn noise you want as long as it's my fuckin' name you're calling," he growled back, already undoing your belt and setting it carefully to the side. 

Well, fuck. That had your breath catching in your throat and more heat than anything his hands and- God damn, that mouth- could do curling low in your core. What did it say about you that the edge of possessiveness and demand in his voice turned you to fucking putty in his hands? 

He was kissing you again as he fumbled to get your jeans off while you worked on his, both of you frantic and needy as hell. It would only be so long before Rick sent Daryl to check on you, after all.

Neither of you really required much in the way of foreplay, thank God. It had been way too goddamn long, you thought wildly as you finally got all the clothing out of the way. Way too damn long. 

"Come here," Shane commanded, and you slid to the edge of the counter to wrap both legs around him with a sigh of relief that had him laughing even as his breath caught same as yours.

"Asshole," you mumbled, but you smiled as you curled against him and sank your teeth in his shoulder, and he bit out your name with that breathless wonder you never got fucking tired of. 

Yeah, you agreed with him. Bring on the fucking walkers as long as he was saying your name like that and touching you like this.

He was whispering again, in your ear and against your lips, and between his words and his body on yours, you were tumbling over the goddamn edge in no time at all. You called his name like he'd asked, his hands in your hair and his mouth on yours, turning you into a shaking mess even as he took more. 

"Shit, Ace," he mumbled into your neck, and your nails dug into his back and shoulders as you cried out. "My Ace. Say my name again," he demanded, looking into your eyes with his own as desperate as you felt. 

"Say my name again." His voice dropped to a rough whisper, his movements turning jerky and sharp, and you knew he was close. 

His hands went soft and gentle on your skin and he shivered, stroking your cheek and down your neck as you obliged, mumbling his name into his lips over and over as he kissed you. He groaned again, whispered something you didn't hear as he pulled you closer, and leaned his forehead on your shoulder as you both tried to catch your breath. 

"Hell," you said with a half-laugh, one hand stroking over his short hair. It was growing back in from when he'd buzzed it, and you loved it. "I think maybe we needed that." 

He snorted, pressing his lips to your collarbone before lifting his head to look at you with amused and exhausted eyes. "You think? Fuck me, Slugger." 

"Thought I just did?" 

He put one hand on your cheek and playfully pushed your face to the side. "What's wrong with you, girl? Shit." 

You wound your arms around him and shrugged, kissing him gently. He sighed into it, and you leaned against his chest as you slid down from the counter to your admittedly slightly unsteady feet. 

"Not a damn thing wrong with me right now, Dickhead. Guess we should probably get back to business here," you suggested after a minute. "Since we weren't exactly good on that whole keeping quiet thing. Mostly you, though." 

"Sure, mostly me. Whatever. God," Shane said disgustedly. "Wouldn't that be the way to fuckin' go? Pants around my ankles in dirty ass kitchen." 

"With a decaying twice-dead corpse behind you," you added, unable to stop the bubbling laughter. "At least your shoes are on. I don't even have that much!" 

"Hell, I think that might be better," he shot back, bending to hand you your clothes and straighten himself out. "Sure is nice and romantic. You know, if we'd done this shit before the world ended, I've have done it right, Slugger." 

You slung your belt back around your hips, checking your gun before hopping back onto the counter to lace your sneakers back up. Shane had wanted to get you steel-toed boots like his- 'cause they were just lying around for the taking, you know- but you'd flat refused. You had to be light and move quickly, damn it. 

"What do you mean?" you asked him. "I think we do this plenty right." 

Shane had started going through the cabinets again, scoring a few old and dented mystery cans that he piled on the table. He shot a look over his shoulder at you, shaking his head. "You got absolutely no idea how you should be treated, do you? Shit, Ace. I mean dating. Romance. I'm pretty damn good at it." 

"Oh, I've heard," you said dryly, rolling your eyes. 

He huffed and stalked back over to you, looking annoyed as all hell. He took your hands and looked at you, face serious. "I'm not talking about dating just to get lucky. Though yeah, ok, I was good at that too." 

"I am not stroking your damn ego right now, Dickhead." 

"Shut up. I'm talking romance, Slugger. Flowers and jewelry and coffee in the morning- real coffee, not that pig swill you drink. Showing up at work to surprise you, taking you to art shows and fancy dinners just for the hell of it. Taking you home to meet my family when the time's right, though I guess I did that, since it'd have been to meet Rick and Lori and Carl. Foot massages when you get off a long shift and spending hours watching you paint and shit, just because we'd be together and I like doing it." 

You stared at him, deadly serious as he described- well, nothing you could even picture. That wasn't dating to you. Mal had never done anything like those things, and you couldn't reconcile what Mal had been like with what Shane was talking about now.

Except, if you thought about it, you could. You thought of a little yellow flower he'd absently handed you in the field at Hershel's. A sketchbook he'd saved from being left behind at the Atlanta camp. Food that mysteriously appeared on your plate some nights, even when you knew there'd barely been enough for everyone to have a bite or two and Lori and Carl to have a little more. 

And even earlier, before the walkers and the end of the world, when you were just friends- him coming to every showing you had at Maria's and most of her monthly showcases; surprising you at a street fair after you texted him all excited about it at six o'clock on a Saturday morning and he'd worked a double shift the day before, his eyes exhausted but a smile on his face as you lead him around and talked to and about the various artists. Sitting in bars and clubs around Atlanta, complaining together about everything from the food to the music, until that one song came on, whatever it happened to be that night, and the two of you would tear up the dance floor for awhile. Him in the Lullaby, talking to you whenever you had two seconds or for hours when it was slow; him on your couch singing along with the radio or telling you about Carl's little league game or Rick's latest miracle while you worked and sometimes forgot he was there until he'd hold a glass of water or a sandwich in front of your nose and you'd come out of your fog and start apologizing. 

"Shane," you whispered, and he shrugged. 

"I'd have done it right, before all this. Just want you to know. And someday, when the world gets back under control, it's not gonna be all dark corners and quickies with a fuckin' corpse in the room," he added, sounding utterly disgusted. "Come on, let's get going. There's nothing else here." 

You slid down from the counter and followed him out the door, pulling your gun before you left the house. As you made your way back to the group's camp, you thought about telling him he already did it right. But you didn't, afraid you'd show just how far gone on him you were. 

Rick met you at the door to the house you'd taken over a couple days ago, his eyes worried as he scanned the trees around you. 

"Took you two awhile. Problems?" he asked as he pulled the door closed behind you. 

You swung the bag off your shoulder and dropped it onto the dirty table with a shrug. "Nothing too big," you answered easily. "We could handle it." 

Shane shot you a look as he moved further into the room and you widened your eyes at him innocently. "No herds comin', brother," he added to Rick. "Didn't find too much, though. Sorry." 

You unloaded what you had come up with as Rick and Shane bent over a map together, your eyes lingering on Shane and a smile on your lips you couldn't help. There was a scoff near your shoulder, and you glanced over to see Daryl leaning on the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes dancing.

"What?" you muttered, wishing you could do something about the flush creeping over your cheeks. " 

He scoffed again. "Someone got lucky, didn't ya?"

You rolled your eyes and didn't bother trying to deny it. Daryl laughed again and whistled, getting Shane and Rick's attention. 

"Now that they're back, Imma head out, aight? See if I can rustle up anything." He swung his crossbow from his back into his hands as he shoved off the wall and headed toward the door. "If you gotta run while I'm gone, I'll find ya." 

You bit the inside of your lip, worried about him out there on his own. "Want company?" 

"Shit no, sis. Better alone," he said, already halfway out the door. "See ya." 

Daryl came back with a couple of squirrel. It wasn't much, but with the cans you and Shane had found, everyone had more than just a bite or two, and three of you were hailed as heroes. You waved the praise off and retreated to you and Shane's corner of the room, watching as the group checked that all supplies and gear were ready to grab and run if need be in the middle of the night. 

Your eyes lingered longest on Lori. She was getting bigger every day, her stomach rounding as she moved further into pregnancy. You and Shane estimated she was around six months along now, maybe seven, and you were getting concerned about her giving birth while you were on the run. 

She shifted now, her hands against her back as she tried to get comfortable against the wall. Shane and Rick had been talking again, and Shane saw her as well. Rick folded up the map and stuffed it back into his pack, and Shane nodded and wandered out of the room. 

"Alright people. Let's get some sleep. We're gonna move on in the morning," Rick declared. "I'm on first watch. Daryl's on second, Shane's on third. Let's get the fire put out." 

Carol moved to extinguish the fitful thing, no more than coals, really, as Shane came back in the room. He'd found a pillow in one of the other rooms and offered it to Lori, tucking it in at her back and resting a hand on her shoulder for a minute. They spoke briefly, Lori looking up at him with a tired smile, and Shane rose, flipped the brim of Carl's hat down, and headed your way. 

Rick brushed by Lori without a word, and her eyes were sad as they followed him. 

You couldn't really bring yourself to care. She'd made her bed, and now she got to lie in it.

Lori and Rick were pretty much not speaking. Shane had told you grimly that they'd fought plenty before the end of the world, often brutally. It was worse now, he'd admitted. Ever since the farm. 

Lori telling Shane she wished he'd killed Randall had started it. Then she'd been pissed as hell at Rick for not telling everyone that everybody turned. Then they'd fought about what she'd said to Shane, about whether or not she'd begun things between her and Shane, about the baby, about Rick's every decision. Rick had started leaning more and more on Shane and started speaking less and less to Lori. It wasn't pretty, and everyone hated it, but it was what it was. You felt a little bad for her, but watching her growing Shane's baby was hard enough. 

It wasn't that you were jealous. How could you be? Shane took care of her because she had his baby, and that was that. It was you he curled up with every night, you he talked to and smiled at and made out with in dark corners. She was just the mother of his child. 

It was that she reminded you that was something you never could be, and whispering voices in your head told you Shane would come to realize he wouldn't want you anymore eventually because of it. You told them to shut up, of course.

Besides, at the end of the world, who wanted to be pregnant? Certainly not you. 

Shane came and sat down beside you with a groan, his arm automatically wrapping around you and pulling you into his side. You leaned on his shoulder, eyes drifting closed as his hand tangled in your hair, and yawned. 

"Tired?" he asked. 

"Mmm. Busy day," you answered, tipping your head back to flash him a smirk. He rolled his eyes at you, but he was grinning too. 

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" you asked as he pulled you down, tucking your pack under your head as a pillow. 

He curled behind you, arm over your waist and fingers playing with yours. "Gonna try for Macon, we think. Herd should have moved on by now, and we haven't hit down there any." 

You nodded and scooted back tighter against him. "Shane?" 

"Yeah, Slugger?" 

You hesitated and changed what you were going to say at the last minute. "I miss my fucking sketch book." 

He laughed, nose on the back of your neck, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll buy you a new one."


	48. Lie #48: "I Was Going To Throw A Rave And Do Wheelies On Daryl's Bike" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
references to past domestic violence/abuse

The convoy pulled to a halt and everyone started moving immediately. Beth took the rear, Carl took the front, and you and Carol took the sides, standing just off from the group gathered around the map so you could listen and contribute while keeping watch. 

"We've got no place left to go," T observed. 

"When this herd meets up with this one we'll be cut off. We'll never make it south," Maggie agreed. 

"What would you say, it's about a hundred-fifty head?" Daryl asked. 

His tone was too considering, and you snorted. "No. You cannot take on that many. We cannot take on that many." 

"Didn't say I was-" 

"Come on, Dar, I know that tone," you shot over your shoulder. Hunger made you crabby. 

"Besides, that was last week," Glenn cut into the brewing argument. "Could be twice that by now." 

You tuned out for a minute, focusing on the trees as you caught a hint of movement in them. "Shane." 

Everyone stopped speaking immediately and you nodded toward the trees. "Something's moving. Doesn't look like much, but." 

You shrugged as Shane, Rick, and Daryl gathered at your side. 

"Come on, Dixon. If it's food, you can shoot it," Shane muttered, and he and Daryl headed toward that side of the road. 

Decisions were made on directions while they were gone, back in moments. Daryl looked annoyed and Shane amused, and you lifted an eyebrow at them. 

"Great hunter here missed," Shane said, gesturing lazily at Daryl's scowl. 

"Yeah, ya say it like it's a damn joke, but we got fuckin' mouths to feed, man," Daryl shot back. "Rick, we leavin' right away?" 

"No, we're going to hit the creek, fill up on water and do some quick laundry," Rick answered. 

"Good. While they wash their panties, let's go hunt. Owl didn't exactly hit the spot," Daryl said with a wink your way. 

You grimaced, remembering Daryl's bizarre dinner from the night before. No it had not, but food was better than no food. 

"I'll come along," Shane offered. 

Daryl nodded. "Sure, if you can keep your damn feet from steppin' on every twig on the ground. Just 'cause you're shackin' up with my sister don't mean you know shit in the woods." 

"What the hell do those two things have to do with each other?" you muttered, lifting an eyebrow at him. 

He shrugged. "Nothin'. I just like reminding your cop here that you're my sister, so he's always on thin fuckin' ice with me." 

You rolled your eyes at that, Shane tossing in a few insults Daryl's way as well. The two of the actually got along well, despite the way they tended to act like they couldn't stand each other. Shane turned to you, opening his mouth to speak, and you beat him to it. 

"I'm staying here," you said dryly. 

"Good," Rick put in as he rejoined you after a chat with Hershel and then Carl. "You're in charge then. Hey, folks- Ace is in charge. We'll be back. Post a lookout." 

"Thought I was in charge," you told him with a dramatic sigh. "I was going to throw a rave and do wheelies on Daryl's bike." 

Daryl snorted. "Like to see some of that shit, sis." 

"Bite me, Darrie." 

Rick looked vaguely amused and kissed your cheek. "Be careful." 

"You too. Watch my boys' backs, Officer Grimes," you told him cheerfully. 

He patted your shoulder and headed over to Daryl, who lifted his hand in a casual wave. You waved back as Shane took Rick's place. 

"Rick making moves on my girl now?" he asked in a teasing whisper. 

You snorted. "Please. I don't like cops." 

"That's a lie," Shane said with a laugh. 

"Nope. I like a cop," you told him, batting your eyelashes. 

He laughed and kissed you lightly. "Be safe." 

"You too, Dickhead. See you in a bit." 

Down by the creek, you kept an eye out as Carol, Maggie, Beth, and Lori did laundry. Glenn and T Dog were keeping watch in strategic places, and Carl was on the creek bed looking, you thought with fond amusement, for frogs. 

You hoped he caught some. 

Jesus, the quarry already felt like years ago. Hard to believe it hadn't even been a full year since then. Life was running at a rapid pace these days, and you found yourself missing the boredom of days in the quarry. 

And your fucking sketchbook, damn it. 

You itched to make art of any sort. Every now and then you got lucky and stayed in one place long enough for you to have the energy to draw on the walls or in the pages of whatever book you could find and save from becoming fuel for the fire. You glanced around the creek and thought about your gear, wondering if there was anything, anything you could do right now. 

Two minutes later you were smearing mud on a rock and wondering why you hadn't done more finger painting when you had the chance. It was good, tactile, messy fun.

"How do you do that?" Beth asked, sounding awed. 

You glanced up from working on the lines of the Lullaby, focusing on the world around you again with difficulty. "What?" 

"How do you do that?" she asked again, gesturing. "That's- you're using mud and your fingers and I feel like I could walk right in there." 

You glanced down, shrugged, and wiped a line straighter with your pinkie. "Art's always been simple for me. Not easy, mind, but simple. Everything else in life not so much, but art- art I understand. Also I studied my ass off and learned everything I could learn about every medium I could. And until the end of the world, I drew or painted or both every single day. It's just hard work and dedication, really."

People laughed and sipped Maria's wine, nibbled canapes off trays as they were passed by waitstaff, and stared at the art. 

Your art. 

Your art in Maria's clean, pristine gallery, lit by her recessed lighting, hanging from walls and in the case of some of the panels, from the industrial beams cris-crossing the ceiling. Your art, on display with your name- not just your tag- and discreet prices. 

You stood in the corner, clutching a glass of wine of your own, and tried to remember how to fucking breathe. Mal stood at your side, fidgeting and looking bored. He kept tugging at his tie and shoving the sleeves of his suit coat half up and then pulling them back down and buckling and unbuckling the leather cuff around his wrist. 

Seriously, you were considering punching him, because his bored fidgets was making your nerves jangle like crazy. 

"Ace, can I borrow you for a minute?" Maria asked, coming over and flashing Mal a smile as shiny and bright as a new penny. She linked her arm through yours as Mal shrugged. 

"I guess so. I'll just wander around for awhile, but I'm going to have to go meet the guys soon, Ace," he said. 

You nodded. "I know. Come find me before you leave if I get hung up somewhere, ok? Thanks, Mal." 

"Yeah, sure," he muttered, his attention already on the people milling around. 

Maria led you away, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. "Thought you could use a rescue." 

You grimaced. "I'm so- Maria, this is my work. It's all my work up here, on the walls, and these people are looking at it." 

She laughed. "And buying it. You've sold three already, and we've only been here an hour." 

"Three?" you blinked at her in shock. "I've sold three? Which ones?" 

"That's actually what I was going to tell you. The gentleman with the redhead over there, Mr. Carmichael, purchased 'Evening Skies'. He offered above your listed price, by the way, and wants to extend an invitation for commissioned works in his newest housing project. He's a good man; I recommend you take him up on the conversation. Though it will come with an offer of dinner or drinks. Refuse, suggest a lunch instead. He'll respect you more for it." 

You nodded, studying the man as your mind whirled. Above the listed price. He'd tipped you, essentially, and that was amazing. Plus a commission possibility. 

Suck it, Will, you thought viciously, the night already a success in your book. Maria turned you slightly and indicated a woman with a discrete gesture. 

"Ms. Sullivan-Blythe, in the purple with the killer heels? Jimmy Choos, by the way, and with what I've already made off of you tonight I'll be able to buy my own, so thank you for that," she said with a wink. 

You laughed, as she'd intended you too, and she went on. 

"She expressed an interest in 'Safety', but when I told her that one wasn't available, she went with 'Eloquence' instead." 

You blinked. "What the fuck, Maria? Why'd you tell her- everything here's for sale." 

Maria shrugged. "I'd already received an intent to buy notice on 'Safety'. Plus, I knew she'd by bigger than that and I could squeeze more out of her. I was right, too. Besides, 'Eloquence' suits her better." 

You had to agree with Maria there; the simplicity of 'Safety' wasn't the glamorous woman's style. 'Eloquence' stretched halfway up the wall on a drywall slab, a series of four finely-detailed faces, eyes staring straight ahead and mouths covered with various forms of gags- first a string of pearls pulled tightly between a woman's impeccably painted lips, duct tape on the man below her, a man's hand over the mouth of the third figure, who you'd drawn where it could be male, female, or neither, and finally sewn-together lips on the gaunt face of a corpse. 

You nodded, gulping down wine like it would help your suddenly dry throat. "Ok. Ok, I'll head over and speak to them both, offer a personal thanks. Wait, you said there were three sold? What was the third?" 

She looked positively smug. "The third was 'Safety'. I had a notice of interest before the gallery even opened, and the buyer just arrived." 

You blinked again, lifting the glass to take another gulp. This was too damn much. A notice before it even opened? Maria had listed a handful of your pieces on her website to promote, but you didn't even think 'Safety' had been included, since it was one of your framed sketches, in a collection of eight or so she'd asked for as cheaper options, for off-the-street visitors or people who didn't have the space or the funds for your wall-sized pieces. 'Safety' was bigger than the others, but it wasn't anywhere near as impressive as most of the other works. You'd only included it because it made a good anchor piece for the sketches. 

"Jesus," you mumbled. "Who is it? I should probably talk to them first, right?" 

"Definitely," Maria agreed, and steered you toward the wall where she'd helped you group the sketches. 

You forced the polite smile onto your face as she nodded you toward the man in the grey suit who stood sipping wine and studying them. You glanced down and adjusted the necklaces you'd layered over your one-sleeve white jumpsuit, then squared your shoulders and took a step closer. 

"Hi, I'm- Holy crap." 

The man turned and Shane grinned at you. You blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what was going on and why you hadn't recognized your friend, but you'd never seen him in a fucking suit before, and you'd been expecting a buyer. 

"Hey, Slugger. Nice little party you put on," he said casually, eyes dancing as he sipped. 

"Maria said someone bought one of my sketches, put in notice before the gallery even opened, and I should come talk to them," you answered, glancing around. "Where did she- I need to-" 

Shane laughed, leaned toward you, and kissed your cheek. "Slugger. I'm your buyer. I saw you working on 'Safety' in your apartment last week and I wanted it. So I called Maria and told her to hold it for me, and not tell you. I wanted to be your first sale, but I got hung up at the station and I lost that chance." 

"What?" you stared at him, shocked. "Shane, I'd have just given it to you if you liked it that much." 

"I know. I wanted to buy it," he said firmly. "Ace, this is incredible. You know that, right? Also, you look amazing. You fit into this place but still look like you." He reached up a hand to tug lightly at the curl of bright blue hair escaping from your updo, then tapped the long feather earring you wore in one ear. In the other, you'd done a simple diamond stud, hoping to balance flowing single sleeve of the jumpsuit with the feather on the other hand. 

Maria had gushed like crazy, but Mal had kind of shrugged and said he thought it was weird. You'd done it anyway, and now you were glad. 

"Shane, you should not have bought that drawing. I seriously would have just given it to you; I have a thousand of them," you protested as you brushed your lips to his cheek. "But thank you. It means the world to me." 

"Ace? Who's this?" Mal asked, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. 

Shane shot him a look and extended a hand. "Malcolm, we've met like six times. Shane." 

"Oh, Shane. Sorry, didn't recognize you all dressed up like that," Mal said, running his fingers down your arm. 

Shane just smiled. "Not every day I get invited to an art gallery and I know the artist. Figured I'd better dress to impress. Not that anyone here's going to come close to comparing to Ace's work, right? She's amazing." 

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at him. "Stop, Shane. Mal, Shane bought 'Safety'." 

"Huh. I thought it was his job to provide that for the rest of us," Mal said absently. "Which one is that, babe?" 

"The one of me," Shane said casually, gesturing toward the wall. 

Mal's eyes snapped over and your jaw tightened at his expression. It wasn't of Shane, specifically, though you had plenty of those in your place. 

"Well, not of me, I guess. Just my gun," Shane corrected, and you knew he was doing this shit on purpose by the way he smirked behind his wine glass. 

And ok, he wasn't wrong. But it was the way he said it. 

The drawing was a closeup of Shane's Glock, in the holster on his hip with the safety strap loose. His hand reached back as though he were going for the cuffs he kept behind the gun, and his sheriff's star was hooked over the belt and half-visible, like he wore it on the job. You'd sketched in some of the folds of his uniform shirt and the lines of his pants. You'd done it absently, with him literally standing right there in uniform and talking to you, and included it in the grouping because it had looked cool at the center of them, as a grounding piece. The sketches were all close-ups of objects or hands or details of a person like the one of Ellie's hair tucked behind her ear and pinned with a barrette that looked like a shotgun shell, or the one of Shane's boots on the ground, one fallen over on it's side just inside your door, and his feet stepping away from them in the background.

You fought the urge to wince at the way Mal's hand on your back tightened along with his jaw. You were suddenly extremely grateful Mal was hanging with the guys all night and was probably on his way out right now. 

"Ah. Nice. Well, I'm glad you made a sale," Mal said stiffly. 

"Actually, she's made three so far," Shane corrected him, and edge to his voice. "Maria was telling me she sold 'Eloquence' and 'Evening Skies' already as well, so I couldn't buy her first piece like I'd hoped to."

"Huh," Mal said distantly. "Listen, Ace, I've gotta go. The guys have been texting me for two hours now. We've got songs to work on." 

You nodded as Shane shot you an incredulous look. Mal leaned over and kissed you firmly on the lips, and you smiled at him. 

"Bye, babe. Thanks for being here. I love you." 

He grunted. "Yeah, yeah. Call you tomorrow, ok? Bye." 

He strode out the door and you took another sip of wine, catching Shane's look. 

"What?" you snapped. 

He shook his head. "That guy's an asshole. He's skipping out early? On your first show? Doesn't know the names of your pieces? 'Eloquence' is your second-biggest ticket here, he should have freaked the fuck out that you sold it already." 

"He and the band need to work on some stuff," you muttered, heat flooding your cheeks. "I draw a lot. Come on, Shane, don't start. I'm already a bundle of nerves and I have to go talk to my two buyers." 

"Four," Maria's voice corrected smugly. "Four buyers, not including Officer Walsh here." 

"What?" you said wildly. "What?" 

Shane laughed. "I told you it'd be amazing, Ace. Come on, I'll go with you to talk if you want. I can schmooze with the best of 'em, right Maria?" 

"Yeah, you're a charmer," she said, rolling her eyes and grinning. "Come on, Mr. Carmichael first. He was the first sale. Sorry, Shane." 

"Don't have to be first," he said easily, resting his hand on your back and nudging you after Maria. He took the wine glass from your hand and passed it to a waiter, then kissed your cheek again. "You got this, Slugger."

Shane, Rick, and Daryl came back with matching expressions of cautious hope. 

You eyed them as Rick did a quick head count and Shane waved you over. You wandered up and crossed your arms, lifting an eyebrow at them. 

"Ok, what did you three do?" you demanded. 

Daryl's lips twitched into a smirk, as Shane wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek. 

"So, we found a place," Shane said. "It's good, too. We'll be safe." 

"Really? Then why do both of you look like I'm about to regret my entire existence?" 

Daryl's smirk turned into a grin. "'Cause it's a fuckin' prison."


	49. Lie # 49: "But It Doesn't Matter" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentions of past murder  
past domestic violence/abuse  
past child abuse

Ace stared between him and Daryl like they'd lost their goddamn minds, turning to Rick like she expected him to help her see the joke. 

"It could be perfect," Rick said. "Walls, fences. We've just got to get closer to see if it's possible." 

Which is how Shane found himself at Rick's back, breaking into a federal prison in one of the more bizarre plot twists his life had thrown at him- and that included the zombie apocalypse. Ace darted forward and knifed a walker who got curious as Rick used bolt cutters on the fence. 

Glenn and Daryl used wire to wrap the gap in the fence closed again, and Shane blew out a breath of relief and took his first really good look at the place. 

The guard run was clear, gates sectioning it off secured like they were supposed to be. Shane eyed the yard, full of shambling bodies in uniforms and prison blues, and he thought maybe this could work- if they could close the gate. 

Rick had the same idea, appearing at Shane's side. "It's perfect," he muttered. "Come on." 

"It's like running a fucking gauntlet," Ace muttered at his side, knife in one hand and gun in the other. 

Walkers lined the fence as they passed, attracted to what was probably the first live flesh they'd encountered since everything began. Shane had a feeling that prisons were fairly low on the government's priority lists, and this place had been pretty much abandoned when the shit hit. He was fine with that, all things considered.

Rick looked over their group with wild hope in his eyes, and Shane saw some ghost of his partner's former earnest belief in the power of good in the universe flicker back to life. He'd missed that, and it made him smile almost as much as the idea of safety and security inside these fences. 

"If we can close that gate, prevent any more walkers from filling the yard, we can pick these off. We'll take the field by tonight," Rick insisted. 

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked. 

"I'll do it. You guys cover me," Glenn offered. "I'm the fastest." 

Ace looked mildly annoyed and Shane shot her a shut-the-hell up look. She held up her hands for peace as Rick started giving out directions, sending some of them off to one end of the fence to draw walkers away from the gate. Daryl, Carol, Hershel, Ace, and Carl were directed toward the towers, since they were the crack shots of the group. Then Rick turned to him and gave him that look. 

Shane nodded. "Just like old times, huh, brother?" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ace demanded, and Shane turned to her. 

"You think I'm gonna let him do this by himself?" Shane said softly. "Come on, Slugger, you know me better than that." 

She stared at him, and Shane watched her go through about sixteen emotions at the blink of an eye. Then she yanked him down to kiss him hot and hard. 

"Damn hero complex. You two be fucking careful, ok?" she ordered. She caught the rifle Daryl lobbed her way, scowled at it, and shot him another look. "I mean it." 

Shane watched her jog after Daryl and Carol, shaking his head with a smile before he focused back on Rick and the nightmare run ahead. 

Rick glanced at him. "You told her you love her yet?" 

Shane's eyes widened. "The hell, man? You really wanna talk about that shit right now?" 

"Good a time as any," Rick said with a shrug. He nodded at Glenn to open the gate, took a deep breath, and shot Shane a grin. "Let's go, 22." 

By the time they made it up to the guard tower, the others had handled most of the walkers in the field. Rick and Shane leaned on the railing, panting and grinning at each other as the last few walkers fell. 

Rick reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. "We did it." 

"That we did," Shane agreed. "We're gonna be ok, brother." 

Rick shook his head and sighed, staring out over the field as the others gathered slowly back at the gate to the guard run. "Maybe. Maybe." 

Shane snorted. "Ain't no maybe about it, man. This is solid. I can feel it. Come on, we gotta get back down there before Ace does something stupid." 

Rick laughed as they headed down the stairs together. "Seriously, when are you gonna tell her how you feel? All winter you two have been sneaking off to make out in the corner, but I swear I'm still watching you pine over each other." 

"Shut up, man," Shane said with a grimace. "She heard that shit from Mal all the time, usually after he'd smacked her around. She doesn't want to hear it from me. Rather just show her instead. Besides, she has a hard enough time believing I'm dating her. That's the problem with someone knowing all about your past history. And she ain't there yet anyway." 

Rick scoffed. "Think you're doing both of you a disservice. Don't wait too long," he added, eyes lingering on Lori. "Things change in the blink of an eye." 

Ace saw him coming and smiled, gesturing around at the field and doing a little end-zone touchdown wiggle that had everyone around her cracking up, including Shane. 

"All that talk about space and they're huddled around one campfire," Shane muttered, shaking his head fondly as he watched Ace spinning with her head tipped back to stare up at the stars. 

Daryl glanced up when she almost tripped over him, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down beside him as her laugh rang out. He handed her a bowl and she made a face at it but started to eat. 

Beside him, Rick chuckled. "Old habits die hard. Like you and me, apparently." 

"What do you mean, man?" Shane asked, rattling a section of the fence to check for stability. It was their second time around, but they were being thorough. There were a lot of walkers in the courtyard, and getting out if the fence was breached in the middle of the night would be damn near impossible.

Rick gestured vaguely. "Us, a prison, people to protect. Lori and I arguing, you listening. Just missing a squad car and Reverend Shane delivering a sermon from the Guy Gospel." 

Shane laughed. "Jesus, man. Why the hell'd you ever listen to me?" 

"Oh, I didn't," Rick shot back, and Shane laughed again. They sobered as a walker in a correctional officer's uniform threw itself against the fence, both of them staring at the poor bastard who'd died just doing his job. 

Shane thought about Rick's blood on his hands and fought back a shiver.

Rick sighed. "I'm sorry, brother." 

"What the hell for?" Shane asked. 

Rick hooked his fingers in the fence and shook his head. "Everything." 

"Shut up." 

"No," Rick said. He looked at Shane and shook his head, jaw tightening. "I don't- I don't know what's happening with me and Lori. And I know by now you gotta be tired of hearing about our problems. Especially after everything on the farm-" 

Shane looked away as he interrupted. "Come on, man. Don't give me that crap. I fucked up enough." 

"Yeah, you did," Rick agreed. 

Shane snorted out a laugh, rolling his eyes as Rick flashed a smile at him. Both of them sobered and Rick continued as they started moving along the fence again. 

"You did. But not bad enough to earn some of what I said. What I did. What I- I implied, because Lori did. I wasn't at the school. I don't know that I would have made the same call, but if I'd been there instead of you and I hadn't, maybe Carl would have died. I certainly can't- can't protest knowing you saved my son's life." 

Shane swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, looking away. "Shit. You'd have done anything to save him, same as I. And looking back, man, I- I don't know if what I did was the right call, or even the only call. But it worked." 

"It worked," Rick agreed. "That's what mattered. About- about Lori." 

"Jesus," Shane muttered. "Why you bringing all this shit up again, man?" 

"'Cause our baby's going to be born soon, asshole," Rick shot back, annoyed. 

Shane stopped and stared at him. "We get hitched when I wasn't looking or something?" 

"Can you be serious for one damn minute? I'm trying to apologize to you," Rick snapped, but Shane saw the humor in Rick's eyes.

Shane ran a hand over his head, scratching at the hair growing back in. Ace said she liked it short, but he'd never been fond of crew cuts- he was an all or nothing type. "I don't want you to apologize, man." 

"You think I don't know that? I already figured that out. I'm doing it anyway. That's your baby as much as mine, and I want you to know I know that. And I- well, I can't say I'm not mad about it anymore, but I get it. Lori told me she came on to you. She told me every damn time you were telling her it was the last time, and she's the one who kept coming back. I'm sorry I doubted you, brother." 

Shane had to look away, nodding instead of speaking as he watched Ace scan the darkness for them. Beside him, Rick waved to her and she started their way. 

Shane sighed. "Never would have touched her, Rick. Never in a thousand years. I just missed you so damn much, brother." 

Rick turned and hugged him, clapping him on the back as Shane dashed at the tears in his eyes. 

"Fucking hell, man. We done now? Can't cry with my woman coming over here," he muttered as he let Rick go. 

Rick rolled his eyes and smiled over his shoulder. "Tell her you love her already, or I'll do it for you." 

"Shut the hell up," Shane snapped, eyes wide. Rick would, and then Shane would be well and truly fucked. "Don't you fucking dare." 

"Do what?" Ace asked cheerfully, her arms wrapping around him and her chin resting on his shoulder. 

Shane leaned back against her, hand automatically twinning with hers. "Try anything stupid alone tonight. He needs to sleep, not be on watch." 

Ace looked at Rick seriously. "I agree. You need some rest, leader of ours." 

Rick made a face and smiled at them both. "Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna do one more pass before I lay down. You two can take first watch." 

Ace nodded. "Go get some dinner. Carl saved you some." 

Rick patted Shane's shoulder again and headed away with a significant look for Shane and another smile for Ace. Shane sighed as Ace kissed his cheek. 

"You ok, Dickhead?" she asked softly. 

Shane nodded. "Rick just- Rick called it 'our baby'. Said a whole bunch of stuff, too, but- he said he knows the baby's as much mine as his." 

Ace went still in his arms, and Shane's heart broke again for her. She said she was alright with not having kids, and Shane figured maybe she was. But it still hurt her, and Shane felt it every time they talked about his baby.

They'd talked some more about some things- her reluctantly telling him the truth about what it was like with Malcolm fucking Hall, telling him about a few things that had happened with Will growing up, until Shane was ready to make his way back to Atlanta come hell or high water and make sure both their corpses would never rise again. But finding time alone over the winter had been hard enough, and Ace was still reluctant to open up about things. 

Shane hadn't had the guts to pry down that particular wall and get her to talk about the miscarriage some more. He was thinking now that maybe he needed to. 

But not tonight. 

"That's good. That's really good," she said, and she sounded genuinely happy for him. For all that she hurt whenever it came up, she was so damn supportive it killed him. "So why do you look so sad?" 

He sighed and pulled her around into his arms so he could lean into her shoulder. Her fingers found their way into his hair and he leaned into her touch. 

"I hate watching Rick and Lori like this," he admitted. "They were- they were the greatest love story I'd ever seen. High school sweethearts, made it through college, through us getting hired and training on the job. Carl came along, and I thought they were perfect. They're what I've always looked to as what love should be like, you know? What with my parents' relationship going to shit." 

She hummed in the back of her throat as he kissed her neck. "I wouldn't know. Mom died when Daryl and I were very young, and Will had a series of hookers and whores after that." 

"Jesus, Ace," he muttered. "We gotta- we gotta talk about your life, woman. I don't know how your mom died." 

She shrugged. "A fire. Then we moved to the city. I barely remember her. This isn't about me, though. Keep talking, you still seem sad." 

"Fine, but we have space, privacy, and safety. You and me are gonna have some long conversations. Brace yourself, I know you hate it." 

She snorted. "Learning some delaying tactics from me there, aren't you, Dickhead?" 

He sighed again and straightened up, staring out toward the fire as he fiddled with the ends of her hair. "I was there for all of their fights. Heard both sides of every story, and Jesus those two. They cain't communicate worth a damn, Ace. Not sayin' I'm much better at it, but holy hell." 

"Yeah, I may have noticed that myself." 

"Everybody has. But it was still them. They were what I always said love looked like. Looking at them now... I don't know, Ace. I'm starting to wonder how long it's been since they stopped loving each other, 'cause it for sure had happened before the world ended. Before Rick got shot. It was- it was bad," he admitted. "Lori said some shit to Rick, the day he got shot. Said it in front of Carl. Who the hell does that?" 

Ace was quiet and Shane sighed, shaking his head again. "Sorry. I'm done now. I just get worried about them, and it makes me sad, seeing how people can love each other so much and then end up hating each other." 

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Thing is, I don't think they hate each other. I think there's loving someone and there's being in love with someone. You can do one or the other or both, sometimes different combinations with the same person as your life moves, right? And people who are good for you at one point in your life can become bad for you in others. People evolve, in relationships and separately. You know? I think they love each other, but they just don't know each other anymore. It's hard to be in love with someone you don't know." 

Shane thought about that as they started to make their way toward the others. "There ever a time when Mal was good for you, Slugger?" he asked finally. 

She didn't say anything right away, stopping their forward progress and considering the question. "I don't know," she answered finally. "I want to say yes, because in the beginning it wasn't like what- what it became. He didn't start out smacking me around, or I never would have stayed. But at the same time, all the warning signs were there. I just didn't see them." 

Shane nodded, trying to ignore the flash of instant rage that accompanied the man's name, along with the image of her in a hospital bed or bleeding on the ground. He didn't think about the half-healed mess of her face that he'd seen when she hopped out of Daryl's truck, because that night was one of the things they still hadn't talked about. 

"I should have," he muttered, thinking about her with black eyes and complaining about sore muscles. "I wonder all the time-" 

He broke off and shook his head.

She sighed. "You wonder if you got me hurt." 

"I know I got you hurt. I wonder how often I got you hurt," he corrected. "But it doesn't matter." 

She made a face. "It clearly does matter, Shane. It's not the first time you've asked me that. Truth is, I couldn't tell you. He, ah. He didn't like us hanging out. He didn't like you. You were the one thing it was always worth it for me to fight for, though."

Shane tried to control the urge to yell at her that she should have been taking care of herself. She should have told him, let him help. That wouldn't do any good, and he knew it. 

"But that's done now," she said brightly. "And we've got this whole place. We pushing inward tomorrow?" 

Shane forced the anger back and nodded. "Yeah, Rick wants to. Hey, Slugger." 

"Shane, don't-" 

"I'm not. I just- come here." He tugged her around until she was looking up at him, amused interest dancing in her eyes. He sighed and kissed her softly, Rick's voice in his head suggesting that he just tell her already. 

And he wanted to. Really, he did. 

He brushed his lips across her cheek while her eyes were closed and she smiled. "I-" 

At the campfire, Beth's voice rose in song, and Ace sighed. 

"I miss music," she whispered, turning to listen. "And dancing, and art, and having time for fun things. Drinking." 

"Yeah," he agreed, watching her close her eyes and sway slightly. Whatever Beth was singing wasn't really a dancing song, he thought, and it was filled with sadness and longing. But he wasn't about to let an opportunity like this pass him by, not when there were so few of them from day to day now. 

He tugged her back to him, pulling her into his arms and swaying with her. She gave a little delighted chuckle and tucked her head against his shoulder, and Shane chickened out. He settled for laying his cheek on her forehead and half-dancing with her in the dark instead.


	50. Lie #50: "Just A Couple Of Walkers" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence

The first night inside the prison you spent on the ground, everyone cuddled close to one campfire and each other for warmth. After taking first watch and spending most of it making out with Shane, a frustratingly delightful experience you didn't think was going to lead to you sleeping very well after all, Glenn and Maggie took your place on the overturned bus.

You cracked a joke to Shane that they'd probably be making out as well. 

"Them?" Shane muttered. "Naw, they'll actually just get it on up there and hope nobody notices." 

You'd had to smoother your laugh with your hands because yeah. Yeah, they would. 

You curled into Shane's chest and he stroked your hair, his heartbeat steady and reassuring under your ear. As you drifted, you thought about talking to him in the field. There at the end of the conversation, after you'd admitted you'd gotten hurt a lot over him, he'd looked at you. 

He'd never said whatever he was going to say, but there'd been something- something different in the way he danced with you while Beth sang. 

The two of you had torn up plenty of dance floors together before this. You knew how to move with and against each other, letting the music take both of you away. Any time you went out, people came to tell you how good you looked together out there and how much they wished they danced half as good as you two. 

"You must be so in love, to dance like that!" 

You'd heard it several hundred times, from giggling drunk girls or dewy-eyed older women, and the looks of utter confusion and disappointment when you told them that you and Shane were just friends gave you a perverse sense of pleasure. You and Shane could put anyone to shame on the dance floor. 

But for all the heat and connection you could conjure there, that awkward shuffle-sway in the field had held a magic you didn't understand and couldn't have put into words if you tried. You smiled to yourself as his fingers slowed and you knew he was dropping off. 

He usually fell asleep before you, dropping like a stone into water with barely a ripple. You were a drifter, and you drifted now, worrying about the next morning. Rick wanted to press onward, to clear the courtyard and start on the cell blocks. He wanted to find the cafeteria and the armory and the infirmary, and you agreed that was all a splendid idea. 

Except for the part where the team going in would be fighting unknown numbers of walkers hand to hand. 

The next morning Shane and Daryl did exactly as you could have predicted and told you they didn't want you going in with them. 

You'd already weighed the pros and cons of arguing with them so you could be there to help or just accepting that you'd be staying behind. You'd watched Lori heave herself to her feet, all protruding stomach and tired eyes, and you knew someone needed to stay back and keep and eye on your non-combatants. If, God forbid, something were to happen to the group, it'd be up to whoever was left to keep Lori and Carl and Beth and Hershel alive. 

Carl was pissed when Rick asked him to stay behind, and you sighed, kissed Shane lightly, and jerked your head in Rick's direction. 

"Go with your partner. He needs you. I'll stay back, cover Lori and the others. Just in case," you said softly. 

Shane pulled you into a hug. "Thanks, Slugger. We'll be fine." 

"I know," you answered, though you didn't, and you were worried. You painted on your bartender's smile, the fake one that looked real enough. "It's no big deal, right? Just a couple walkers." 

"Don't give me that fake-ass smile. I see right through it," he told you. "I mean it. We'll be fine. But-" 

"Don't," you interrupted him harshly. "Don't. I don't want anymore half-assed just in case messages. The one on the farm was bad enough." You'd turned your tone deliberately teasing at the end, but you meant it. You didn't want that shit; it was too damn morbid- like he'd said in his note. 

He rolled his eyes but leaned in to kiss you again, longer and sweeter than last time. "Fine. Watch your back." 

"Please. You watch yours," you fired back in a whisper. 

He leaned his forehead to yours before heading over to Rick's side to discuss the plan one more time, even though they'd done it seventeen times already- including three 'one more times'. You moved to where Daryl checked his bolts. 

"Hey, Dar. Be careful?" you said, leaning against the guard tower at his side. 

He snorted. You waited to see if he'd say anything, and when he didn't, you kissed his cheek and hugged him while he scowled and jerked his shoulder to try to shove you off. 

"Saw you getting all cozy with Carol last night," you teased in a low voice. 

He made a face at you. "Stop." 

"No, I did. Shoulder massage and everything," you pressed. He'd given you enough shit about Shane, you were ready to dish some back. "I really think she might have a crush on you." 

"Would ya shut up already? Jesus." 

You laughed as he turned bright red. "Love you." 

"Yeah, yeah. Go cuddle your cop and leave me be."

You banged your knife against the fence, yelling with the rest of those not involved in the assault to try to draw walkers away from the team going in. Carol, Hershel, Beth, Lori, and Carl ranged the fence with you, all of you watching with worried eyes as the others pressed into the courtyard. 

So far, things were going great, you thought as you dropped a walker who got curious enough to see if he could score a snack. So, inevitably, you figured it was about to go horribly wrong. 

You were partly right. They disappeared around the corner, as you'd expected. You chewed nervously on your thumbnail as you waited, and the yells started getting louder. 

"Daryl!" 

Rick's voice had your heart stopping, and Lori's hand locked on your arm. 

"Can you see them? I can't see them," she whispered. 

You didn't take your eyes away from where they'd disappeared. "No, I can't see anything. We've gotta just- oh, thank god." 

Glenn jogged into view ahead of the others, and you did a rapid head count. Everyone was there, and everyone looked fine. Shane blew you a kiss and held up a hand for you to wait when Rick spoke and Glenn stopped. 

Glenn turned, looking confused, and Rick gestured toward the nearest cell block. Daryl nodded, in agreement, and though Shane and the others looked doubtful, they all turned toward the cell when Rick headed that way. 

"What are you doing?" you muttered, eyes narrowed on them. 

Shane paused like he could hear you and circled his hand in the air, gestured for you to stay, and mimed panning with a rifle before pointing to the cell block. You rolled your eyes to heaven. 

"Yes, thank you, I'd deduced that much, Dickhead," you muttered. You knew that was the best he could do, though, and flashed him a thumbs up in answer. 

He followed the others, leaning against the wall on one side of the door to Cell Block C with Rick on the other. Your brother glanced at Rick, Rick gave a nod, and Daryl shoved the door open and darted in first, Rick and Shane on his heels. As the rest followed, Lori let out a long sigh and let go of your arm. 

"Well then. I guess we wait," she mumbled. 

"I guess we do," you agreed, and leaned your forehead against the fence to do just that.

Glenn and Maggie came out holding hands and beaming. You let out a long breath, glancing at the row of your charges and finding the same relieved expressions on them that were sure was on yours. 

You hauled gear inside, glancing around at the bare grey walls, bodies and dirt and general lack of cleanliness from being mostly abandoned for a year or so, and the bars. Bars everywhere. 

"Home sweet home," Glenn declared brightly. 

"What do you think?" Rick asked, coming down from the upper level. 

"Think ya outta be right at home, sis," Daryl commented, smirking down at you from the railing. 

You glared at him. "I'd flip you off, but my hands are full. I was never in a cell, asshole."

"Yeah, but ya came close enough." 

You dumped gear and Shane came out of a cell. He ran his fingers over your cheek as he pulled your pack from your shoulder and took it into the cell he'd clearly claimed as your own. 

"I think you have me confused with your older brother, the criminal," you called back up to Daryl. 

"Naw, I know which sibling I'm talkin' about. How many time you get caught defacing public property, Ace?" 

Everyone was smiling as they listened to you bitch at each other, and you glared up at him with your hands on your hips, willing to give them a show. "I never would have gone to prison. Right, Shane?" 

Shane snorted from inside the cell he'd claimed. "Leave me out of this, Slugger. Street art's a crime. Not my fault; I didn't make the rules." 

"Yeah, you didn't enforce them either," Rick called back. "I know you pulled strings with Atlanta PD!" 

Shane came out and gave Rick a betrayed look. "How the fuck do you know that, man?" 

Rick shrugged. "'Cause I covered your ass when you'd get calls from the PD about her coming in. Said she was an informant you liked to keep tabs on." 

You doubled over laughing. "So you pulled strings to get me out of trouble and Rick pulled strings to get you out. Joke's on both of you, because I didn't need your help!" 

"Yeah, you did," Rick, Daryl, and Shane all said in unison. 

You blinked and groaned as everyone laughed. 

Handcuffs were uncomfortable, as were the backs of squad cars. They were designed that way, to encourage the general population to keep themselves out of this situation as much as possible. 

You sighed and stared at the back of your most recent arresting officer's head, annoyed. "You know you don't have to keep me in cuffs the whole damn ride, Officer. It's not like you and I haven't been here before. I come quietly every time." 

He glanced in the rear view with amused eyes. "I know you do, Dixon, but you made me chase you. So, cuffs it is." 

"Damn it, Casey." 

"That's Officer Casey to you, thanks." 

You groaned again and leaned back against the seat. "Am I gonna get my shit back this time? If I have to replace all that gear it's gonna really set me back." 

"You know, you could consider not vandalizing property," he shot back. "But yes, you'll get your gear back. You just gotta get processed again. Got someone you want to come pick you up?" 

You grimaced. "Everyone's at work or busy. I'll get myself home, don't worry." 

At the station, Officer Casey helped you out of the car and lead you inside by the elbow. 

"I mean, seriously- hey, what's up, Jones, see you Tuesday- why are you escorting me? It's not like I don't know my way around here," you grumbled, pausing to greet one of your regulars who was clearly on his way out of the drunk tank. 

"Because it's my job. Shut up and you'll get out of here faster," Officer Casey said pleasantly. 

"This is your third time arresting me, you should know by now I don't shut up," you informed him, and he grinned even as he rolled his eyes. 

At processing, you flashed the desk sergeant your best smile. "Yes, I'd like a king sized bed please." 

"Dixon, for processing," Officer Casey said, shooting you a look. 

The sergeant frowned. "We just released a Dixon. Angry fucker." 

You snorted. "Probably my older brother, Merle. I'm Ace." 

"Ace? As in the street artist? I saw that piece on fifth street, with the octopus and the ship; it was amazing!" He leaned forward across the desk and you smiled. 

"Yeah? Thanks! That one was fun. The brickwork posed a nice challenge, what with all the-" 

"Can I book her now, Sarge? Or she'll talk your ear off all day," Officer Casey said dryly. 

"Fingerprint ink is a pain in the ass," you gripped, scrubbing at your fingers with the baby wipe they'd given you. Four hours, fingerprints, mug shots, and a hefty fucking fine later, you were ready to get the hell out of the station.

"You're covered in spray paint, Dixon." 

You rolled your eyes at Officer Casey. "Your point? It's still a pain in the ass. Ok, where's my shit? I'm booked, I paid my cash, lemme out of here. I got an idiot brother to check on and a piece to finish- I mean, what?" You batted your eyes innocently at Casey's sharp look. 

He sighed and waved you toward the door. "Shit's through there. You'll get the usual lecture when you sign it out. Hope to not see you again." 

"The customer service here is excellent. Well, a top-notch arrest, Casey. Catch you later. Definitely not on Peach," you shot over your shoulder with a wink. 

You strolled up to the uniform waiting in the evidence area, who gathered your personal affects and went through the list so you could sign for it. You listened with half an ear to the lecture on repeat offences leading to stiffer punishments, including up to five years in prison. You honestly didn't believe that last bit, because if that was the case you should have been behind bars right now. 

Then you slung you duffel over your shoulder and headed back through the lobby, this time with your hands free and spinning your beanie on one finger. Outside, you blinked in the sunlight and tugged your beanie back into place. You'd left your car near Peach, down the back alley you'd been running toward when Casey had caught up to you. 

You were lucky he liked you, or you'd get a resisting arrest charge along with the petty vandalism. Though hopefully, the owners would drop the charge when you finished the piece. So far, you'd only actually had a couple of them go through onto your record, though you'd paid enough in fines to have you wondering if it was worth it. 

Then one of your drywall pieces would sell or you'd get paid to do a wall, and yeah. It was worth it. 

You needed to figure out how to get back to your car and were considering calling a cab when a familiar voice called to you. 

"Shit, Slugger, how'd you let Atlanta PD catch you? Thought you were too fast on your feet for these lazy assholes."

You turned with a smile, head cocked to the side as you studied Shane leaning on his Jeep. He was in his uniform, ball cap on his head and gun on his hip, with his feet crossed at the ankles. He had clearly been waiting for you to come out, and you headed his way as he shoved off the Jeep. 

"What the hell are you doing here, Dickhead?" you asked. 

Shane shrugged, but before he could answer Officer Casey called his name. 

"Hey, Walsh! This your artist? I should have known. Well, it's your lucky day again, Dixon. We'll take care of it." Casey waved an acknowledgement of Shane's hollered thanks as you narrowed your eyes on Shane. 

"Wanna tell me what the hell that means?" you asked. 

He snorted. "Toss the gear in the back and tell me where your car is, Slugger. You think you haven't been to prison yet because of your good looks and charming personality? Please. You've been picked up five times in the past six months." 

"What are you saying?" you demanded as you climbed in beside him. He pulled out of the PD, waving to various officers coming and going. 

"Means I pulled some strings and got you some friends, Slugger. Between that and the fact that most people don't press charges after they see your art, you're not learning if orange clashes with that pink hair of yours. Don't get pissy," he commanded as you opened your mouth. "Just say thanks and tell me where your car is. I need a damn drink." 

You thought about it and decided he was right. "Peach. Wanna run interference so I can finish, if you're looking to be so damn helpful?" 

He snorted. "Hell no. But I'll watch you paint for three hours in your place instead if you promise to make me a batch of those magical Old Fashioned things you do before you get started." 

You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning and you couldn't help it. "I could handle it myself, you know. But thanks. Sure, that's a deal, Dickhead. I'll have to stop by the liquor store, though. You know where my key is. Put some good music on and don't go snooping around. Christmas is coming soon." 

There was brief discussion about finding the infirmary and cafeteria the next day, and everyone dispersed to the cells. Except your brother, who in true dramatic Dixon fashion, declared that he wasn't sleeping in a cage and drug a mattress out onto the landing. 

You yelled at him to keep the snoring to a minimum and turned to the cell, only to have him fire back that you'd better not wake everyone up moaning Shane's name. 

"I hate you so much," you muttered as you fled into the cell Shane had chosen for you. 

It was bare except for the single mattress on the lower bunk and a lovely splash of blood over the wall. Shane had, while you were exchanging insults with Daryl, pulled a blanket from your pack and tossed it over the bare mattress. He'd also pulled out the battered and stained flannel shirt of his you'd managed to hold onto over the whole brutal winter, one of the only things relatively clean in your pack. 

He was sitting on the mattress working his boots off when you came in red to your hair and muttering about asshole brothers. 

"He's right, you know," Shane said, sliding his shoes off with a groan. "Luckily for everyone, I'm too damn tired for any of that. What about you?"

You scoffed and sat on the edge as Shane stretched along the mattress and scooted back toward the wall. "I'm not that loud, damn it. And no, I don't think even you could get me to an orgasm tonight. That's not a challenge, so don't even go there." 

You pulled off your own battered sneakers, marveling at how something so simple instantly made you feel so safe. For months now, you'd slept dressed and armed and ready to run at the drop of a hat. This was the first night since the farm had been overrun that you'd sleep without your shoes on and your gun at your side. 

Speaking of which, you unhooked your belt, checked that the safety was on your gun, and laid the thing in the floor with Shane's, at the head of the bed. 

Shane's arm wrapped around you and he pulled you close as you laid down as well, his fingers lightly tracing your arm. "We did it," he whispered. 

"Yeah. It's a big fucking deal," you agreed. 

"It's safe, or will be soon enough. Going further in tomorrow." 

You bit your lip. "I'm going with you." 

He sighed. "Yeah, I kinda figured. Won't try to argue, mostly 'cause Rick wants everyone who can stab a walker to go." 

"So glad you're excited to have me as backup," you mumbled through a yawn. 

He chuckled. "Aww, you know I'd rather have you at my back than anyone else, Slugger. Get some rest. We're safe, for the first time in months." 

You flipped over and he snaked his arm around your waist, tugging you back against him and holding on like you were a teddy bear. You slid your fingers through his as he shifted so you could use his arm as a pillow. 

"I don't know," you whispered, knowing full well he was already falling asleep by the way his breath felt on the back of your neck. "I've always felt safe where ever you are." 

He didn't answer, and you dropped under like a stone as well.


	51. Lie #51: "I Don't Believe Anything Your Rat Bastard Father Said" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
past child abuse  
past miscarriage  
infertility  
mental/emotional abuse

Shane was still asleep when you slipped out of bed early the next morning, dawn light trickling into the prison pale and weak from the film-covered windows. You bent at the waist, reaching for your toes to try to work out what felt like permanent knots in your lower back that even a night on an honest-to-God mattress couldn't cure. 

"You're up early," Daryl said quietly. 

You grunted and rolled back upright. "You're one to talk," you replied, eyeing him. 

He had his crossbow and quiver on his back already, leaning in the doorway to the common room. There was fresh blood on his hands, so he'd been doing something with a dead something while everyone else slept. 

Come to think of it, there weren't any bodies piled up that you could see as you stepped over to join him. 

"Did you even sleep?" 

He shrugged, jerking one shoulder and tossing his head. "Enough. More'n lately, anyway. Figured I'd get the bodies out, since we're going further in today and there'll just be more of 'em to deal with." 

You sighed. "I'd kiss your cheek but you're filthy. I mean we all are, but I'm trying not to catch any diseases. Thank you, though. You're awesome." 

He rolled his eyes and grunted. "Ain't nothin'. Ya get some rest?" 

"Some," you agreed. "So damn tired I'd have slept on a thorn bush and been fine." 

He smiled slightly. "Ain't like it'd be the first time."

"Shit. I didn't sleep on it, I fell out of the damn tree you dared me to climb and knocked myself out cold when I landed on it," you protested, eyes narrowing. "Jerk." 

"Ya got it wrong. Weren't me that dared ya, it was Merle." 

You paused, thinking back. "Holy shit, you're right. I've been blaming you for that for years. That bastard." 

"Yeah, that he was. Is? Shit," Daryl mumbled, looking pained. 

You sighed and leaned into his shoulder. "I miss him. I honest to God didn't think that was possible, because it's fucking Merle. But I miss his racist, sexist, annoying, overprotective ass. I hope he's ok." 

"Ya really think he's still alive? After all this shit, and cuttin' off his own hand?" Daryl's voice was disbelieving, but his arm wrapped around you. 

You shrugged. "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle. I'm pretty sure he's immortal unless he does something phenomenally stupid. Which, ok, isn't exactly unlikely." 

Daryl snorted out a laugh at that. You stood in silence together for a minute before you chuckled. 

"He'd have loved this. We're in a fuckin' prison, Dar." 

"Yeah. He always said he'd end up in one. Look at us. The two that shouldn't be here are," Daryl said with a jerk of his chin.

"Yeah, mister pure-as-snow and the petty vandal," you agreed, poking him in the side. "Oh, the irony." 

"Ain't pure as snow. Just didn't get fuckin' caught," he countered with a grin. "Merle'd be all over your ass about hookin' up with Shane." 

"I'm not 'hooking up' with him," you snapped back with a roll of your eyes. 

"Ya told him ya head over heels for him yet?" 

"Fuck. Never mind, we're hooking up," you grumbled. "Yeah, Merle'd think it was a hoot. Or he'd never speak to me again." 

Daryl snorted. "He'd tease ya until you wanted to kill him yourself, but Merle'd have ya back no matter what. Nobody fucks with our sister and gets away with it." 

"Shane's not fucking with me, asshole. He's dating me. You do know there's a difference, right?" you teased, trying for lighthearted. 

Daryl shot you a bland look. "Do you? Ya ain't got the best track record, sis. I ain't sayin' Shane's the same type, 'cause I got eyeballs and I know he ain't. Just sayin', ya got some internal shit ya ain't let go of. It's made you make some shit decisions." 

You stared at him. "That is... oddly profound." 

"What? I fuckin' read. Ya ain't the only one with childhood trauma and shit," he muttered, turning red. "Had to figure out how to deal with some of it." 

"That's remarkably healthy-minded of you," you said with a grimace. "I should have done the same." 

"Yeah, ya should have. Maybe then ya wouldn't have let shit Will said sink in so far ya still actin' like ya believe it to today." 

Your eyes whipped to his, widening at the anger in his tone. "The hell are you talking about? I don't believe anything your rat bastard father said." 

"That's some bullshit right there," he shot back, chewing on his thumbnail. "Ace, look. I see the way ya fuckin' look at Lori sometimes. Ya damn cop boyfriend's asked me some pointed questions about that night and what happened after. Chill, I ain't told him much but the basics, shit he already knew before I said anything. Told him to talk to you about it, but looks like he's been too chickenshit to do so." 

You glared, arms crossing as you pulled away from him. "What about that night? Or after? It's fine. So I can't have kids. No big deal; I don't want them anyway." 

Daryl looked like he'd like the floor to swallow him up any minute now, but he pressed on. "Don't try to swing at me, I can fuckin' take ya. Then Shane'll try to kick my ass for it and I'll have to fight him too. Shit Will said, Ace. Don't pretend ya don't know what I'm talkin' about. It ain't true, but you been livin' like it is, and- well, I wish ya wouldn't. You need to talk to fuckin' Shane about it, too." 

Your jaw worked, but nothing was coming out as Daryl stepped forward and took you by the shoulders. 

"You're my sister, and I love the shit out of you. Ya ain't broken, and you're worth a hell of a lot more than you've accepted for yourself. Wish you'd let Will's shit go. Now Imma get back to burnin' some fuckin' corpses. Wanna help?" 

You nodded, still speechless, as tears welled in your eyes. He was the second man in your life to give you that speech, and you thought idly that they balanced out the two who'd told you otherwise. Daryl kissed your forehead and headed toward the door, cracking a joke you responded to automatically but didn't really hear. 

You curled in bed, hugging your pillow to you and trying to block out the world and the sounds of Daryl and Merle arguing in the kitchen. You wondered idly what the hell Merle was even doing here, since he had his own shit hole of a place and hadn't been around much since he'd stormed out for good. This week, though, he'd been here damn near constantly, just hovering around until he couldn't stand Will anymore and had to leave. 

You shoved aside thoughts of why, forcing yourself to get out of bed and head toward the door. You were hungry, sort of, and you figured you better go put a stop to the argument before it went too far. 

In the tiny kitchen, they were nose to nose and gesturing as they argued in low tones. 

"Ya think I don't know that? She goes to school and acts like she's fine, man. Then soon's she's home, she curls up and don't speak until-" 

"Hey, little sister," Merle interrupted Daryl, catching sight of you. "Ya decide to get your lazy ass outta bed after all?" 

"Fuck you, Merle," you said tiredly. "I'm hungry." 

Daryl blinked at you. "Aight. Whatcha want? I'll make ya a sandwich or something." 

"I can feed myself, asshole," you said, opening the fridge and staring into it blankly. "You two can keep arguing about me if you want, but I'm fine." 

Silence greeted that pronouncement and you rolled your eyes, grabbing a yogurt that was only two days past its expiration date. Someone had gone to the grocery store in this century, you noted. Must have been Daryl or maybe Merle, cause it sure as fuck hadn't been you, and it was your chore. 

"Wanna get ya a shower too, little sis?" Merle suggested pointedly as you opened the yogurt and stared at it, wondering if you had the energy to look for a spoon. 

One dropped into the carton and you blinked, taking it up because hey, it was there. So was the yogurt. Might as well eat. 

"Trying to tell me I stink?" you mumbled around a spoonful. 

"Tryin' to tell ya you look like shit and a shower might help," he shot back with a shrug. "Truth hurts." 

"Eh. Not if you don't care," you fired back. "What the hell are you doin' here anyway?" 

"That any way to speak to the reason ya have somethin' to eat? Ol' Merle's been-" 

All three of you jumped when the door banged open, and you dropped the spoon with a clatter. 

"Fuck," you mumbled, staring down at it instead of looking over at Will as he stalked inside. 

"Good. You're all fuckin' here," Will snarled. "I can yell at all three of ya at once." 

"God, what the hell did we do this time?" you complained. Your eyes widened, unable to believe that had come out of your mouth. You rarely talked back to Will, mostly because it resulted in- 

The slap stung and tears sprung into your eyes. Daryl's hand wrapped around your arm and he pulled you back from your father, who glared at both of you. 

"Don't ya talk back to me, girl. Son, ya best let go of her and let her face the music, or ya'll be next," Will snarled. His eyes were glassy and his pupils pinpricks, and you had a sinking feeling someone was going to bleed tonight. 

Merle stepped around and glared at Will. "Pick on someone ya own damn size for once, ya fuckin' bully." 

"I'll knock your ass into next week too, ya fuckin' traitor," Will yelled. "Will one of you three burdens please explain this bill I got the damn mail today? Which one of you idiot pussies took Ace to the hospital? We ain't got no insurance; don't need to take her to the damn emergency room to know she got her fuckin' period!" 

You paled and leaned into Daryl's side, trying to block out what was happening. You should have known. You should have thought about the goddamn hospital bills. 

Merle and Daryl were both yelling, things about how it wasn't your period and there'd been so damn much blood, what else were they supposed to do? You tried not to hear any of it as you squeezed your eyes closed, but then Will barked out a harsh laugh. 

"Miscarriage, huh? Little slut let herself get knocked up. Good fuckin' thing she got rid of it. Ace, ya wanna spread it for whatever randy little asshole ya want, that's fine, but don't ya cost me no more money with it. Get yerself some pills or have ya big brothers here teach ya how to use a fuckin' condom. Ain't havin' no babies to take care of, spend all our damn money on diapers. You shits are bad enough." 

"Shut the hell up, ya asshole!" Daryl yelled it, sounding more pissed than you'd heard in your life. "Don't talk about her like that!" 

"Oh, ya wanna buck up to me, do ya? Let me just get my belt then. I'll talk to her however I damn well please. Little slut's my daughter; it's my right to make sure she ain't poppin' out no babies for me to take care of!"

"She can't have any kids, damn it! And it's all cause ya shoved her into the goddamn counter, ya abusive fuck!" 

Silence greeted Merle's thunderous roar, and you bit down on your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to hold in the urge to start screaming or run or throw yourself out the window. 

Will grunted. "That right? Perfect. She can take care of her ol' man in his old age then, since ain't no man gonna want her." 

"What the fuck did you just say?" Daryl asked, stunned. He let go of your arm and you felt the tears welling up beneath your eyelids. "What the fuck did ya just say?" 

"Ain't no man gonna want some broken bitch cain't give him sons. Not for anythin' more than a quick fuck anyway. So I guess I got me someone to take care of me after-" 

Daryl yelled and your eyes popped open as Will's voice cut off with the sound of a fist on flesh. Merle was all over Will, driving him back with another wild, pissed off punch. Daryl cursed viciously and shoved you toward your room, yelling for you to go and lock the door, but your legs wouldn't work. 

You could only stare with wide eyes as Will staggered back from the force of your older brother's fist. Then Will planted his feet, hot rage turning him into the demon you'd been living in fear of since you were old enough to know what fear meant. No number of cold beers would calm him down now, you thought wildly as he and Merle crashed into each other. They were wailing on each other in the living room, breaking the cheap-ass coffee table into a thousand pieces while Daryl stood in front of you and screamed at them to just fuckin' stop. 

You were still shaking when Atlanta PD put them both in cuffs and hauled them away. 

Shane and Rick were nerding out hardcore over the gear they'd pulled from the armory. It was actually pretty cute.

"Flash-bangs, CS Triple-chasers. Not sure how they'd work on walkers, but we'll take 'em," Rick said with a glance at Shane. 

You shook your head fondly at them as Shane grinned and started a string of jargon and speculation about the effect of noise and light on walkers. 

"Nerds," you commented, poking absently through the haul. 

"Hey, Slugger, this is top quality shit right here. Tools of the trade." 

"Yeah, top quality toys for you two nerds to play with- hot damn!" You scooped up the spray paint cans, shaking two of them at a time and letting out a delighted laugh at finding them both completely full. "Oh, now we're talking, boys!" 

"Nerd," Shane said. He took the cans from you, despite the way you tried to hold on. "Come on, Ace, not for art. Let go, damn it." 

"Not for art? Dickhead, seriously, I haven't had paint on my fingers since- shit, since before Mal put me in the hospital," you whined at him, staring at the cans intensely as he set the down. 

Daryl snorted. "She'll get 'em eventually, man." 

"We need to mark the walls to show our path down there in the dark, Ace," Rick said, tone apologetic. "Once we get the place cleared, you can go crazy with whatever's left." 

You pouted, glaring at them. "Fine. I guess that makes sense. I'm in charge of them down there, though." 

"Yeah, I don't think anyone else would dare touch them, not with the way you're lookin' at 'em, sis," Daryl muttered. "Good lord." 

"Yeah, you don't look at me like that, Slugger," Shane teased. "Should I be jealous?" 

"Of my lifelong love affair with aerosolized pigment? Absolutely. God, I wanna paint so bad, Shane." You grabbed his arm with both hands and groaned, leaning your forehead to his shoulder. 

He laughed and patted your hand with his. "Soon enough, Ace. We get this place secure, I'll go find you as many fuckin' art supplies as I can. Gotta be a hardware store with some Rustoleum around here somewhere." 

"You know, I know you're making fun of me, but I don't care. I'll take it. Bring me the Rustoleum and I'll love you forever," you shot back without thinking. Color flooded your cheeks as Shane laughed, and you hoped to hell he didn't notice. 

Luckily for you, Daryl chose that moment to hold up riot gear dripping in walker juice and declare passionately that he wasn't wearing that shit. T Dog's suggestion of boiling them was met with equal distaste, and a lively debate over added protection verses lack of mobility began as Carol called for Hershel. 

You agreed with Daryl; fuck the nasty walker armor. There wasn't any need for it. For the most part, people were in agreement, though the few intact bullet proof vests were distributed and Carl started to pull on the one helmet not found on a walker. 

Shane shot you a look when Rick told Carl to stay behind, and you rolled your eyes at him. He didn't say anything, though, because you'd decided last night. You were going- especially now that there was paint for you to guard. 

As was inevitable for your merry band of adventurers, everything went perfectly. Until it didn't. 

There wasn't a walker in sight for the first few turns, and you marked each one with arrows pointing back the way you'd come. You were so damn happy to do even that much tagging that you were damn close to humming as you followed along at Shane's back. He shot you a look when you added a rapid version of your tag below an arrow. He opened his mouth to speak when Rick was coming right back around the corner, controlled panic in his eyes as he motioned you all to head back the way you came. 

Of course nothing was ever that easy when it happened to you guys, and somehow you ended up in a room with Rick, Daryl, Shane, T Dog, and Hershel, looking around for Glenn and Maggie as you waited for the shambling group of undead to continue their path away from you. 

"We've got to go back for them," Hershel insisted. 

"Yeah, but which way?" Daryl asked. 

And the best laid plans collapsed into total confusion, screaming, and Hershel getting bitten on the leg by a walker. 

Rick and Shane sprang into action, hauling him up with Daryl. Shane nodded and you took point, gun in hand and all business now, running through the halls until you found relative safety in the cafeteria you'd been searching for. 

They dropped the screaming Hershel down with his head in Maggie's lap, and Shane glanced at you as Rick pulled off his belt and wrapped it around Hershel's leg. 

"Ace, look away." 

"Fuck you, Walsh, you need the hands," you snapped, leaning onto the old man's side to hold him still.

"Only one way to keep you alive," Rick told Hershel grimly. 

"Ace, take my place," Daryl commanded. "Hold the door." 

He shoved you out of the way as Rick grabbed an ax and swung once, cutting deep into Hershel's leg. Hershel's screams rose to an agonized height and dropped off abruptly as Rick swung again. Blood sprayed all over Rick and the floor, and as you fought back nausea you decided maybe you were better off with the dead after all.


	52. Lie #52: "Nobody's Shooting Anyone" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
major character injury (cannon)   
Lori Grimes A+ parenting

You ran for the rolling table, dumping its contents to the floor to use it as a gurney for Hershel despite Shane and Daryl telling you to stay back. You barely glanced at the prisoners behind the cage, knowing you were safe. The old man was bleeding out, and Lori was going to need him any day now. 

You were not letting that woman lose Shane's baby because the menfolk were too busy threatening each other to focus on the important things.

"He's bleeding out, come on!" 

You kept pressure on Hershel's leg- what was left of Hershel's leg- on the way back, your basic knowledge of how to stitch Dixons back together not in the least bit helpful here. It was better, you supposed, than some of the others, but not by much. 

Slamming into C block again, you stepped back so Carol could take a look. Hershel had been teaching her shit all winter, and you figured she was a better choice for fixing him than you were. You ran a shaking, bloody hand over your hair before you thought about what you were doing and noticed Daryl and Shane weren't crowded around the cell with everyone else. 

Fuck, those prisoners. You headed back into the common area to find Daryl and Shane leaning casually on the tables. Daryl had one leg propped on the bench and the crossbow leveled at the door. Shane had his Glock sitting on the table he leaned against and was spinning a machete absently in one hand. 

"Dramatic much?" you asked. 

They didn't look away from the doors. 

"You should get back there," Shane said, jerking his head toward the cells. "They'll have followed us." 

You hopped up to sit on the table between them. "I know." 

"Ace-" 

"Shut up, both of ya. They're here," Daryl hissed. 

Sure enough, you caught the sound of footsteps and whispers as well. They slid through the doors one by one, looking around cautiously. The prick in the lead had long hair, tattoos, and a snub-nose tucked into his jumpsuit like an asshole. You hated him immediately. 

For some reason, he reminded you of Mal. 

"That's far enough," Daryl said, breaking the silence. 

"Cell block C. Home sweet home. Let me in, gringo." 

"It's your lucky day, fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go," Daryl shot back. 

Shane laughed and the asshole pulled his gun. Shane scooped up his Glock, Daryl took a step toward them, and you saw this getting out of hand immediately. 

You slid off the table and tossed a coy look the asshole's way. "Come on now, boys, I don't think there's any reason for this to get nasty, do you?" 

Shane snarled, low and pissed, when you stepped toward the prisoners. You ignored him. You diffused situations all the damn time; you could handle some scared, randy prisoners. 

"Ace, get the fuck back," Daryl snapped.

"No, I think- Ace, is it? I think Ace can come on over here, baby," the asshole said, giving you a look you knew all too well. "Come help us all be friends, you know what I mean." 

You sighed when Shane grabbed your arm and shoved you toward the cells. 

"Get your eyes off her, you criminal bastard. Get the fuck out of here. Ace, go inside. Go!" he insisted, eyes on the prisoners even as you thought about arguing. 

You decided to go when the yelling started, but only because you figured if anyone could work this out without killing someone, it'd be Rick. 

In the cells, you grabbed Rick's arm. His eyes shot to the common area and he sighed when raised voices echoed in. He gestured you out of sight from Hershel on the bed with Carol, Lori, Maggie, and Beth gathered around. Rick pulled Glenn aside and handed him a pair of handcuffs. 

"Do not leave his side," Rick instructed. "If he dies, you need to be there for that. Think you can do this? Maggie'll be there." 

Glenn looked devastated, but he clenched his jaw and nodded, determination in his eyes. "I got it." 

"I can leave Ace-" 

"I said I got it." 

You snorted. "And Ace is going. Come on, Rick, before they kill someone."

"There ain't nothin' for ya here, why don't ya go back to ya own sandbox?" 

Daryl was yelling; T Dog was yelling; the asshole with the gun was yelling. Shane wasn't yelling, his gun trained rock steady on the leader. The other four were hanging back, two of them in particular looking nervous and confused. 

"Hey, everyone relax. There's no need for this," Rick declared as he walked in. 

You went to Shane's side immediately, standing just back from his shoulder and not leaning against him like you wanted to. It had been a day already, and all you wanted was his arms around you and maybe a fucking shower, but you weren't about to foul up his shot. 

"How many of you are in there?" head asshole asked. 

"Too many for you to handle," Shane shot back. You laughed, appreciating the sarcasm, and all of their eyes shot to you. 

One of them, a scrawny short type who probably had a healthy dose of little man complex (you'd seen it plenty in the Lullaby) looked you up and down exaggeratedly, and you rolled your eyes and flipped him off behind Shane's back. The little bastard winked at you and you felt your lip curl in a sneer. 

"Got anymore pretty ladies in there?" he asked, and everyone- including the asshole with the gun- turned to stare at him. He shrugged. "What? I been in here awhile. She's fine and she knows it; just curious if you got more in there." 

"Rick, Imma shoot him," Daryl declared, sounding disgusted. 

"Nobody's shooting anyone," you said with a roll of your eyes. "How long have you bastards been in that cafeteria?" 

"Going on ten months," the head asshole answered, looking confused. "Riots broke out." 

You and Shane exchanged glances as one of the others spoke up for the first time. "We were thinking the army or the national guard should be showing up any day now." 

"There is no army. No nation guard, no hospitals, no police. It's all gone," Rick said grimly. 

The prisoners glanced at each other and head asshole lowered his gun. "What?"

After daring Rick to prove what he claimed about the walkers and the state of the union, the prisoners and Rick struck a deal. Your people would help them clear out one of the other cell blocks, in exchange for half of the food still left in the cafeteria. 

After Rick threatened Tomas, the lead asshole, and everyone agreed, you filed back inside with the rest of your people to get ready for this. 

Shane cornered you in the common area. "Ace." 

You snapped the magazine back into your Glock and racked one into the chamber. "Yeah?"

"I want you to stay behind," he said softly. 

You shoved the Glock into your holster and crossed your arms, leveling him with a glare. "Why the hell would I do that? We need hands. There's five of them, that's enough to pose a threat if they pick their time right." 

Shane rubbed at the back of his head, eyes shifting from yours. "I wouldn't let Maggie go either, even if she wanted to leave her dad right now. Ace, they've been locked in a cafeteria for nearly a year and in prison for longer than that. Give any one of those fucks two seconds and a dark corner, they ain't gonna care if you say no." 

"For shit's sake, Shane, I can handle myself," you shot back, annoyed as hell. 

"I know. But I don't want you to have to, and if you go, your brother and I'll be torn between doing our jobs and keeping an eye on you." He shrugged when you glared harder. "Is the way it is, Slugger. Just gonna have to deal with it. Please? Stay behind?"

You started to argue. You wanted to argue. He pulled this shit way too often for you to be comfortable with it, really. "I can take care of myself." 

He'd won and he knew it. He stepped closer, slowly, biting at his lower lip until you were fighting the urge to smile. "I know," he said. 

You narrowed your eyes and held firm when he shifted forward again. "I've put plenty of assholes in their place; I could deal with any one of those punks. Plus, I've got a gun now, so I'd definitely win." 

His hands slid around your waist and he pulled you toward him, hovering his lips right over yours. "I know." 

"I can- I can- Fuck you, Shane," you complained in a whisper. 

He laughed and kissed you until you were wrapped around him and flustered and annoyed. "Maybe later," he murmured against your lips. 

You smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Dickhead." 

"Slugger," he countered, and kissed you again. His hands tangled in your hair as he did and you hummed in the back of your throat, sinking into it and the promise of more later it held. 

Damn it, you wanted it to be later. 

Someone shuffled their feet behind Shane. He broke away from you, glancing over his shoulder to see Tomas and the wily little asshole who'd winked at you flat out staring. Shane glared at them, turning so you were half behind him. 

"I'll see you later, Ace," he said shortly. "Go check on Hershel." 

You sighed, looked Tomas in the eyes, and kissed Shane's cheek. "Be careful. Kill 'em if they need it." 

Shane's low, threatening tone followed you as you ducked into the cells, and you tried not to grin like an idiot at the joint curl of warmth and shiver of anticipation it sent through you. 

Hershel was still unconscious. Carol was bloody to the elbows as she and Lori changed out the towel wrapped around Hershel's missing leg. 

"Wish we had some antibiotics. Painkillers," she said quietly to Lori. "You've got to be worried sick about delivering the baby." 

"Look at me," Lori tossed back, eyes steady. "Do I look worried?" 

No, she didn't, but you knew better than most that didn't mean she wasn't. Movement caught your eye and you glanced up to see Carl lifting one of the sets of keys from the hook by the cell block door. 

Since the others were in Glenn's hands, you found that interesting, to say the least. You shoved off the wall, glanced at the worried faces gathered around Hershel, and followed the kid. 

He unlocked the door at the back end of the cells and glanced over his shoulder as he opened it enough to slip through. You chuckled and stepped forward so he could see you, and his eyes widened. His shoulders slumped and his look turned into a glare. 

"I guess you're gonna make me come back," he muttered. 

You glanced back over your shoulder, chewed on your thumbnail for a minute, and lifted an eyebrow at the kid. "You going for the infirmary?" 

"Yeah," he muttered. 

You nodded, pulled your own gun, and slipped through after him. "Give me the keys. Why? Because I'm the adult." 

Carl stared at you, a small grin curving his lips up, and handed the keys over. He helped you slide the gate closed and you locked it behind you while muffling the sound of the keys, then you motioned him forward. 

"Well, let's go. Hershel needs that shit, doesn't he?" 

Things were going well enough that you wondered just how much longer that was going to last. So far, not a walker in sight, and your nerves were jangling with each corner you and the kid cleared. 

He moved with the same easy competence he had for half the winter, Shane and Rick's gun training showing in every motion. You nodded at him, gestured to the left and swung around yet another empty hallway. 

"You have reached your destination," you mumbled, looking at the clearly marked door. "Alright, kid. I'll shit a brick if there aren't walkers in here. Grab a knife; let's keep it quiet as long as we can, ok?" 

He nodded and holstered his gun, ready and braced in moments. You took a deep breath and kicked the doors in, the two of you ducking to opposite sides of the room. 

One walker in a lab coat turned slowly, eyes dull and movements jerky. It was so emaciated you wondered if it had starved to death here. You heard a grunt behind you as you darted in and sunk your blade up under its chin, ripping it out again as you turned to check on Carl. 

He'd dropped one of his own, another emaciated form in a lab coat, and shot you a triumphant grin. You smiled back and studied the room. 

It was clearly a holding room, with benches the wall with the door you'd come through. A half wall ran along the second side of the room, and Carl stuck his head around the corner and made a face. "Who wants to use a toilet while people can watch you?" 

"No one wants to. Inmates have to," you told him with a shrug as you studied the closed doors that made up the last two sides. One was clearly to the pharmacy, clear, metal-reinforced glass with a small slit for passing things through. And 'pharmacy' etched into it was a pretty damn good clue. "We should start in there. Think it's unlocked? Electronic lock, key, or both?" 

Carl shrugged. "There's a keyhole." 

You handed him back the keys you'd brought. "I doubt it'll be any of those, but give it a shot while I pat the good doctors down, would you?" 

You grimaced as you crouched by the first dead guy, slipping your hand into his pocket and mumbling to yourself. "I just wanna paint shit and pour drinks, goddamn it. Is that too much to ask? I didn't think so, but apparently I kill zombies and search their pockets these days for- ah!" You fished out a key and held it up in triumph. "Now we're talkin'."

You headed back to Carl. "Any luck?" 

He shook his head and handed you back the ring. "No. You?" 

"Behold, my friend," you declared dramatically, holding up the key you'd found. "No let's hope it's not his house key." 

The door opened and you turned to Carl for a high five. He shook his head and rolled his eyes like you were ridiculous, but you saw the smile as he turned away. He looked like his dad, with the hat and the smile. 

The place was pretty barren, but there was enough there to make a huge difference for your people.

You started clearing everything into the doctor's bag sitting just inside the door. "Shit. If it's here, we need it. Get it before those inmates have the same idea." 

Carl nodded and started grabbing bottles and bandages and syringes. You worked in silence until he spoke up hesitantly. 

"Hey, Ace? Can I ask you something?" 

You glanced at him and shrugged. "Sure, kid. What's up?" 

"It's just- My mom's having a baby," he started, giving you a mini version of his dad's stubborn bastard face. 

"I've noticed that, yeah," you agreed, giving the kid your full attention. You had no idea where this was going, and frankly, you were terrified. 

He scuffed one foot. "But my mom's baby is also uncle Shane's baby as well as my dad's baby, so I'm trying to figure out if that makes you my aunt?" 

You blinked rapidly and shoved a hand through your hair. "Holy shit. Kid, I am in no way qualified to answer that question." 

Carl's shoulders slumped and he started to turn away. You grimaced, shot up a quick prayer that you weren't about to fuck things up significantly for Shane and company, and pressed on. 

"So, firstly, I don't care if you want to call me your aunt, but technically we are in no way related. That part's easy," you said. 

He turned back to you, looking pleased that you were trying to answer him. 

"As for the rest of it, what have your mom and dad told you?" 

He shrugged. "Just that they both love the baby and it's theirs, but it's also Uncle Shane's baby. And like, I know you and Uncle Shane are together, so I don't really get how it's Uncle Shane's baby? Why would he and my mom have... done whatever?" 

"Oh Jesus," you mumbled. "Ok. Um. So this is a conversation to have with your parents?" 

He grimaced. "They don't... They don't like talking about it. Or to each other." 

"Yeah, I noticed that too. Alright, I am so not going to have the birds and the bees talk with you, my man. But I can say that your mom and Shane thought your dad was dead. That's the only reason any of this happened. If they don't want to tell you any more, then it's not my place to do so." 

Carl made a face. "But you and Uncle Shane are in love, so why would he love my mom?" 

You blushed to your hair; you could feel it. "Well, honey, we're not- I mean- Shane and I weren't together at the time. Look, Carl, you're a good kid and I don't want to leave you confused but this is really, really not a conversation I'm prepared to have with you. You really need to ask you parents. I am begging you." 

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, ok. Thanks. Come on, we've gotta get this back to Hershel." 

You followed the kid back to the cell block, hoping maybe by the time you got there your face wouldn't be red anymore. 

Glenn eyed both of you as you came back toward the cells. Carl seemed deep in thought as you made your way back, but his eyes lit up when you handed him the bag of supplies just inside the cell door. 

"It was your idea, kid. Go be a hero," you said with a shrug. 

"I thought you were organizing the food," Glenn called. 

"Even better," you answered, and nodded to Carl. 

He dropped the bag and opened it, and Lori and Carol pounced on it with delighted exclamations. 

"Where did you get all this?" Carol asked. 

"We found the infirmary." 

"What? Who is 'we', young man?" Lori snapped. 

Carl glared. "Ace and I went, ok? But I'd have done it alone and been fine. It was no big deal. We killed two walkers." 

"Do you see this? This was with the whole group! What were you thinking? Either of you?" Lori asked, eyes wide and pissed. "You should both know better- especially you, Ace!" 

You shrugged. "We needed supplies." 

"I appreciate that, but-" 

"Then get off her back!" Carl yelled suddenly. 

"Carl!" Beth's voice was shocked and her eyes wide. "She's your mother, you can't talk to her like that." 

Lori took a deep breath and started again. "Look, I appreciate that you want to help, but-" 

Carl turned and ran off, leaving Lori staring after him in shocked confusion and a scattering of surprised faces. 

You glanced from him to Lori and shrugged, feeling bad for both of them- and maybe just a little guilty. "Lori, be pissed at me if you want. He was going alone and I backed him up. We needed the shit, didn't we?" 

"That is my son," Lori said firmly. "Not yours." 

You felt yourself physically flinch. You looked at the ground and nodded, stomach churning with fresh, stronger guilt. Yes, he was her son. You'd never claimed otherwise, and it wasn't your place to take him into a dangerous situation without his parents' knowledge and consent. "I know. I made sure he stayed safe." 

"You should have sent him right back in here to me," she insisted. 

"Why? You wouldn't have noticed anyway," you mumbled to your sneakers, suddenly pissed off. You'd been keeping an eye on that kid all winter, along with everyone else here. How dare she imply you wouldn't have his safety and best interests in mind? And what the hell was she doing, climbing onto her high horse when nine times out of ten she couldn't have told you where Carl was at any given moment? 

"What is that-" she started, eyes going wide.

"Nothing," you interrupted her. "It doesn't mean anything. I overstepped. By the way, your son was asking me how your baby could be yours, Rick's, and Shane's, and if that made me his aunt. I told him he and I weren't related at all, but if he wanted to think of me as an aunt that was fine with me. As for the rest of it, I told him to ask you. I'd say one of you need to talk to him." 

You turned on your heel as her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. 

Maybe you'd inventory the food like Glenn had thought you were doing to begin with.


	53. Lie #53: "You Need A Better Pet Name For Me, Sweetheart" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
minor character death (cannon)   
references/allusions to past domestic violence and rape/non con as part of domestic violence/abuse  
use of marijuana  
smut-adjacent/mild smut

Shane grimaced at the fresh layer of blood on him. "Aw, man, Ace is gonna freak." 

Daryl snorted. "You scared of my sister or somethin'?" 

"Have you met your sister? Damn right I am," he said with a roll of his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for Dixon's attitude right now, not after what had just gone down. 

Daryl flashed him a grin as he opened the door to the cell block. "Probably a good thing, man." 

"Shut the hell up, asshole." 

Ace unlocked the inner door and flung it open, looking at them all with worried, cautious eyes. "Everyone ok?" 

Rick nodded. Ace's eyes lingered on Rick, and her brow furrowed. 

"That's a lot of blood there, Rick. Any of it yours?"

"No. There was- there was an incident. How's Hershel?" Rick asked, setting his hand on her shoulder. She looked him over again with a frown, but didn't press.

"He stopped breathing. Mom brought him back," Carl said, appearing behind Ace. "It was amazing." 

Rick and the others pushed past, Daryl catching her hand for a quick squeeze on his way by. Shane scrubbed a hand over his head, trying to get the simmering anger under control. 

Rick could have died, damn it. He could have died. 

Ace bit her lip, eyes studying the blood all over him like she had Rick. "Shane?" 

He held an arm out to her wordlessly and she curled against him. He sank down onto the bench, pulling her into his lap and leaning his forehead on her shoulder. She ran a hand over his hair and kissed his head. 

"Rick nearly got fuckin' killed," he said, voice tight. 

"What?" 

"Tomas. That bastard- one of them got bit because all of them were stupid. Went after a walker prison-riot style, the idiots. Kicking, stabbing it in the guts, the kidneys. We told them, man, you gotta- you gotta take the brain. They didn't fucking listen," he said, sitting up some. He kept one arm wrapped around her and had a hand warm on the back of his neck, watching and listening intently. "Anyway, then a group of them came around the corner, Tiny got scared and got bit. Tomas fuckin'- fucking took him out. Beat his skull in. Scared the shit outta me, Slugger." 

Her hand had tightened on the back of his neck and he felt her deliberately relax her fingers as he gestured. 

"We get to the laundry; gotta go through it to get to D block. Tomas is at the doors, gonna let them through one at a time. That's the plan at least. Asshole throws the doors open, whole fucking group of them come in at once. Shit happens, right?" Shane shook his head with a snarl. 

She grunted. "What happened?" 

"Tomas tosses a walker at Rick. Rick goes down, Ace. He goes down and I can't- I can't get to him." Shane's hand shook as he ran it over his hair, and Ace reached for it. He held on tight and let out a shaky breath.

She leaned her forehead against his. "He's ok, Dickhead." 

Shane couldn't help the tiny smile. "You need a better pet name for me, sweetheart." 

"Why? Dickhead works. You've been Dickhead for years, I can't stop now. You wouldn't know who was talking to you." 

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You can call me whatever you want, I guess. He fell with a walker on him. Dixon handled it and got him up, but- he could have fucking been killed, Ace. Again. On my watch." 

Just like in the field, when he didn't see the third man and Rick got shot and fell backward, so fucking slowly as Shane nearly emptied his shotgun into the bastard. Rick's blood on his hands as he tried to keep him alive long enough for help to get there, tried to keep his own mind calm while he watched his best friend nearly-

Her lips brushed his cheek. "He can handle himself. You're not responsible for him, Shane. It'd not your fault every time something happens to him. Did you kill Tomas?" 

Shane blinked at her. "Jesus, Slugger. No, I didn't. Rick did. Then we chased that scrawny bastard who couldn't keep his eyes off you and locked him out in the courtyard with the walkers. Let the other two live; they're in D. Stay away." 

Maybe it wasn't his fault every time, because Rick had himself a whole slew of close calls, but Shane had made it his job to keep that man alive years ago. He wasn't about to stop now, and today he'd damn near failed. 

Ace rolled her eyes at him, but she nodded. "Good. Glad they're dead. Tomas reminded me of Mal. In the eyes, you know? Dangerous bastard." 

Shane's hand clenched into a fist, his fragile grip on his anger fraying even more at the reminder of another person he'd failed badly enough to land her in the hospital. Twice. "Yeah. Well, he's dead. Rick put an ax in his skull." 

"Nice," she said with an impressed whistle.

Shane grunted, shaking his head and closing his eyes. Too damn close a call, and the bastard responsible had reminded her of Mal. Shane thought about finding Tomas' corpse and doing some therapeutic punching and kicking. That seemed a little too close to the crazy side of the line, though, and he tightened his arms around Ace instead. He opened his eyes when her hand on the back of his neck stroked lightly, and she was staring off beyond him, lost in thought.

Shane kissed her, then scrubbed at some dried blood on her cheek. "We're disgusting." 

"Yeah. Hey, Shane?" 

He tensed at that tone. "Yeah?" 

"Carl and I did something crazy. Lori's pissed and I was kind of a bitch to her about it, so sorry," she said, biting her lip as she looked away from him. 

Shane groaned, not in the least concerned about Lori being pissed or Ace being a bitch. It was more the words 'I did something crazy' striking fear into his heart. "What the hell did you do?" 

"We found the infirmary. It wasn't bad. Two walkers, and we handled it easy. The place was mostly cleaned out, but we brought back the rest." 

Shane stared at her. Was she fucking serious? She went wandering around down there after Hershel lost a leg getting bit in a whole group, with just Carl as backup? Not that Carl wasn't damn good backup to send with her after the winter they'd had, but she had absolutely no business going into that mess. Especially after he'd asked her to stay behind where she would be safe. "I thought you were going to stay here." 

"I said I wouldn't go with you. Not the same as staying here," she said with a shrug, her eyes shifting from his guiltily. "It wasn't a big deal. I saw Carl sneaking out on his own and figured I better go with him. Lori said I should have brought him back, and she's probably right. But we needed that shit, for Hershel and for your baby. She, uh- said something that pissed me off and I told her Carl had been asking me how the baby was all three of yours." 

Shane's eyes had narrowed because when she said Lori had pissed her off, Shane saw the flash of pain. Lori hadn't made her angry; Lori had hurt her. Damn it.   
But the last bit got his attention. "Carl what?" 

She grimaced and waved one hand in the air. "He wanted to know if I was his aunt somehow, and how the baby could belong to all three of you, and why if we're us were you and Lori doing, and I quote, 'whatever'." 

"Jesus." Shane didn't know what he looked like, but his stomach churned at the idea of Carl ever asking him anything like that. Rick and Lori needed to handle that situation, damn it. Rick had told him Lori would talk to him, but Shane was starting to wonder how much actual parenting Lori had been doing since the end of the world. 

And his poor Ace, to get blindsided with that shit. Especially with how she was dealing- or rather, as Shane figured was the case, not dealing- with the idea of it being his baby to begin with. 

"Yes, exactly. I told him he needed to ask his parents and that you and I weren't together at the time. And that he and I weren't related at all but he could call me his aunt if he wanted," she added, considering. "But I was bitchy to Lori about it when I told her." 

Shane snorted. "I don't care. Lori probably earned the bitchy. Shit, woman. Let's get back to you going to find the infirmary with only Carl as backup." 

\-- So I did something crazy. 

Shane's lips twitched into a smile as he glanced at his phone. He took a sip from the beer in his hand and responded. 

\-- That's worrisome, all things considered.

He tapped his fingers restlessly on the phone as he waited for a response, the game suddenly significantly less interesting than whatever trouble Ace was currently up to. 

\-- Hardy har har, Dickhead. 

\-- ... I'll bite. What'd you do, Slugger?

She'd probably dyed her hair again or gotten a tattoo or pierced something besides her navel. She'd been going on and on about wanting to feel different when they'd been hanging out last month, and Shane figured she'd finally taken the plunge. 

He was not prepared for the picture he got. 

\-- Ace, what the actual fuck?

He leaned forward like that would make the image on his phone screen any more clear, then chugged the beer while he waited for something resembling an explanation. 

\-- It's... a cereal killer

The message was accompanied by a series of those dumbass laughing emoticon things, and Shane actually, physically groaned and slapped his palm to his head. Then he started laughing, helpless against it. 

She'd glued about six different types of cereal into a massive rendition of Jack Nicholson's iconic 'Here's Johnny!' scene from the Shining. Shane honestly wasn't sure what the hell was happening in her life right now, but at this moment in time, he was wondering if she needed a priest or to get laid. 

Hell, maybe both. 

\--Slugger.... What the FUCK?

His phone buzzed and he opened the next image and inhaled the sip of beer he should have known better than to take. Through the coughing and the tears in his eyes, he stared at the picture. Cereal boxes littered her floor. Cheerios, Rice Krispies, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Lucky Charms, Cocoa Puffs, and- for some reason Shane didn't understand because there was no color in the picture- three boxes of Fruit Loops were piled on top of each other, filling the frame and beyond. 

"Seriously, what the actual fuck, Ace?" he muttered. 

He was about to call her when his phone buzzed with another image. 

"Do I even want to- Yeah, ok, I have to know." 

The thing was life sized, he realized. She'd made a life-sized cereal version of Jack Nicholson's insane face busting through a door. 

Shane called her immediately. 

"Hey," she said, sounding tired. 

He could imagine. "Ace. What- what- I don't even have words, woman." 

She started giggling, and he heard what he was pretty sure was an edge of hysteria in it. "Oh God. I don't know. I don't even know. I've been up for like thirty-six hours and I just kind of lost it, Dickhead." 

"Why have you been up for thirty-six hours?" he asked, turning off his television and jamming the phone under his ear to pull on his boots. She sounded insane and someone needed to wade through the cereal devastation no doubt all over her apartment floor. Since she needed to sleep, it was going to be him. 

"I'm a moron," she said dryly. "I had a shit day and a long shift, and Mal gave me some pot before I went to work, just to take the edge off- don't judge- and then I couldn't settle and I had to make this monstrosity." 

"That explains the Fruit Loops," he mumbled. "You sure it was pot, Ace?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure. I know it mellows most people, but it does the opposite to me. That's why I never use the stuff." 

Shane grunted as he closed his door. "Ok, here's what you're gonna do. How long's it been since your last hit?" 

"Only had the one, Deputy." 

"Good. Go get a shower. Put on something comfortable and get in bed." 

She started to protest almost immediately. "No, I have to clean-" 

"I'll clean up. Get a shower, get in bed. I'll bring food and clean your place up while you get some sleep. We'll decide what to do about Jack in the morning." 

She was quiet long enough he thought she might have fallen asleep already. "You don't have to come, you know." 

He snorted. "I'm in the car, crazy person." 

Shane could practically hear her smile in her voice. "Cereal killer's damn funny." 

"Hilarious, Ace. Shower. Now. Be there in an hour or so." 

"Don't think I'm not pissed at you about going off with Carl," Shane muttered to her as they both checked in on Hershel. She had a distressed shadow in her eyes as she looked down at the old man, pale and with one hand hooked to the bunk bed. 

He'd woken up, though. He was a tough old bastard; Shane was certain he'd pull through. 

She rolled her eyes at him as she headed for their cell. "I'm somehow not at all surprised. You worry to much." 

"That's just not possible when it comes to you, Slugger," he told her, crowding in close behind her as she dug into their pack on the top bunk. He ran his hands down her sides and pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her neck. "Cause every time I think I've worried enough, you pull some stupid shit and prove me wrong." 

She scoffed, largely ignoring him as she pulled out clean-ish clothes. "Guess that means you wouldn't be interested in the fact that we also found the showers." 

Shane's eyes narrowed. She kept digging and produced the bar of soap she'd been hoarding like gold at the bottom of their pack. He was suddenly acutely aware of the layers of dirt and blood and general grime on both of them, and how very badly he wanted them gone. 

"You found the what?" he asked. 

Ace smirked at him and bit her lip. "I bet, if you're as handy as you claim to be, you can get them working again. Don't think there's gonna be heat, but cold showers are better than no showers." 

"Who fixed your sink, huh? Who replaced that outlet you blew plugging your goddamn air compressor into it? Who pried that busted light bulb out of the socket when you sliced your hand open on it being a moron? Who changed the oil in your car?" he demanded. "I can fix the fucking showers." 

He could indeed fix them. He did fix them, and when they started pumping hot water Ace screamed, jumped on his back, and clung to him like a fucking monkey while yelling in his ear. Shane laughed and walked under the water completely dressed, her on his back, and stuck his face right in it. 

"Hey, share! Share!" she demanded, climbing down and trying to shove him out of the way. 

"Nope. Get your own." He didn't budge, standing there with his eyes closed and basking in the heat. 

Goddamn, that felt good. He ran his hands through his hair as she stopped shoving at him. He figured she'd gone to actually get her own and felt a little bereft for a minute, but holy fuck there was hot water and a bar of soap and Shane was in heaven. 

Or apparently not yet, but he was about to be. 

Her lips pressed to his and her body did the same, blocking most of the hot water, but Shane had suddenly stopped caring about what two seconds before had been the sole focus of his entire being. He'd reached for her automatically when she pressed against him, and Shane's fingers found warm, bare skin, already slick from the water. 

He opened his eyes and she was smiling up at him, head tilted back so the water soaked her hair as the smile changed to a smirk. Shane's hands slid over her hips and up her back, bumping over the scar and the too-prominent bones of her spine. She needed to fucking eat more, he thought absently. 

"Sorry. I like this one," she teased. "I figured under the right circumstances, you wouldn't mind sharing. Showers are more friendly with two." 

Shane laughed as he ran his hands through her hair, helping work the water into it and indulging his insatiable need to touch her. "That right? Friendly what you're after, Slugger?" 

"Sure," she agreed lazily. Her hands were busy pulling his soaked t shirt from his waistband. She peeled it up, and he helped her along until she ducked in and bit lightly at his side while he couldn't see. "Friendly's good. Hell, we're always friendly." 

He rolled his eyes when he got untangled from the wet shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Real friendly. Get the hell over here and I'll be even more friendly, if you know what I mean." 

She laughed and he did too, struggling to get his wet jeans off. She sauntered away for the bar of soap while he hopped around on one foot like an idiot, and he was damn lucky he didn't bust his ass on the wet floor. 

"Oh my god. This is- shit. I might have an orgasm just from this," she declared, working soap into her hair. "You're not supposed to use body soap on hair because it dries it out too much, but I don't fucking care. Oh Jesus." 

Shane laughed as she let out a moan the likes of which he usually heard a hell of a lot further into the process than they were right now. He finally managed to get all of his clothes off and kicked out of the way, and he watched her for another minute until his fingers ached with the need to touch her again. He stepped back over to her and pulled her hands from her hair, taking over washing it for her. She leaned back against him as he did, letting out a light sigh. 

"Not gonna let you have all the fun alone, Ace," he whispered in her ear before pressing a kiss to her neck. "Not when we're alone and safe. Told you before I'd do it right." 

"You do a lot of things right," she whispered back as he turned her around to rinse the soap from her hair. "Including that. You work in a salon or something?" 

He scoffed. "Shut up and give me the soap."

He didn't have anything like a washcloth or those weird puffball things every woman he'd ever dated had in their shower, but he did the best he could anyway. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as he glided the soap over her body, scrubbing where needed. Water ran red-and-brown tinged under both of them, because she didn't stay still and pliant in his hands for long. 

She never did, and Shane knew why. Even when he tried to make things all about her, like right now, she wouldn't let him. He'd learned to accept it, to push aside the rage that wanted to fill him when he thought about it, and just enjoy the fact that she wanted- needed- to give as good as she got. 

And she did. Her hands on his skin, the steamy water rising around them, the simple fact of being clean for the first time in weeks- Shane didn't know if he was more relaxed than he'd ever been or more in goddamn need than he'd ever been. Maybe some bizarre combination of both, he decided as he spun her around so he could do her back. 

He trailed a finger lightly down her spine and she shivered, so he followed it up with both hands, digging in to massage at the permanent tension and knots in her. She groaned as he worked on her shoulders, and he sank his teeth into the bone at the base of her neck. 

"Remember the first time we did this?" he whispered as he pulled her back against him under the spray, his hands roaming down her arms to tangle briefly with her fingers- smoothing them from the clenched fists she'd formed somewhere along the way- and up back along her sides. "We had some fun in the shower that night too."

Her breathing was ragged and uneven now, her pulse under his tongue pounding along at a thousand miles per hour. Her skin tasted like soap, clean and sharp on his lips and filling his mouth. He skimmed his fingertips over the sides of her breasts and she gasped, a helpless sound Shane found more intoxicating than any drink she'd ever mixed him at the Lullaby. She held so fucking still, all the tension he'd washed and massaged out of her returned until she was coiled wire-tight and ready to explode. 

He laughed and did it again, this time sliding over her just a little further than before. She shivered and whispered his name, and Shane drank the tone of her voice up. She didn't come completely apart with the barest of effort anymore, and Shane hadn't thought that would make him happy but oh, God, it did. It meant she was getting used to it. Meant she was maybe starting to know she had the right to demand he pay attention to her needs; the right to be focused on and tended to regardless of what she was willing to do in return.

Or maybe it was just that Shane would do anything to make her happy, anything to hear her say his name like that. If that was the case, he didn't fucking care. He'd realized something, having her in his arms and in his bed. 

He'd realized he was a goddamn fool, who saw what he wanted right in front of him and convinced himself he didn't need it. It wasn't last call that made him a fucking liar; it was the morning after, when he got scared and ran. 

"First time I touched you, Ace, I was done," he said into her neck now, wrapping his arms around her and just holding on for a moment. "I knew I'd never be the same." 

She made a noise he couldn't translate and spun in his arms, her mouth hot and needy on his and her hands the same. He could oblige, Shane thought distantly as she pressed every fucking inch of herself to him. Not the reaction he'd been expecting, honestly, but he could handle this.

He backed her up to the wall, caging her in with his hands to either side of her head. She looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted, swollen and red and wet, and Shane ran his thumb over her lower lip and his hand down her throat as he bent to take that mouth with his again. 

Her hands slid down his chest and she made a frustrated, desperate noise as she pressed her hips to his, and he laughed against her lips. She smacked him on the back of the head, breaking the kiss to glare at him. 

"Yes, yes, you're amazing and I need you now, damn it. There, ego stroked enough? Can you just- for the love of God, Shane, please-" she snapped. 

The please did it. 

Shane grabbed her leg and hooked it over his hip, hand on the underside of her thigh as he did what she wanted. He bit back a moan of his own as he slid into her, resting his forehead against the wall when his name fell from her lips in breathless relief. 

"Fucking Christ, Ace," he mumbled, and reclaimed her mouth with his as he started to move. 

She moved with him, her hands everywhere at once and fuckin' magic. She trailed her fingers over his arms, dug her nails into his hips, glided her palms flat and warm over his back and shoulders. She framed his face in her hands as she called his name with her eyes closed and her voice breaking, and Shane was coming unraveled beneath those hands like he always did. 

"Shane. God. Shane," she mumbled, clinging to him now with her face in his neck as they both teetered on the edge of flying. "Only one in the fuckin' world makes me feel like this, I- Shane!" 

He lost it there, but she did too, sliding bonelessly down from where he'd lifted both her feet from the floor. He held her up somehow, grateful his legs seemed to still be working. 

"You know, Slugger, there's a damn mattress in our cell," he complained when he had oxygen again. "You always gotta give me a workout, don't you?" 

She straight-up giggled, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. Shane smiled at the sound, looking down at her closed eyes and satisfied smile. He kissed her nose because he could and held her tighter. 

He was so goddamn glad he'd gotten his head out of his ass. How in the hell had he ever looked at her and thought they were just friends? 

"Gonna run out of hot water," she mumbled. "Should probably save some of it for the others." 

Shane snorted. "Snooze you lose. We got here first." 

"Thank God for that," she agreed. "Ok, seriously though. Your back needs to be scrubbed and I still have soap in my hair. Come on, let's get clean before we start shivering." 

She scrubbed his back for him, telling him more about her adventure with Carl. Shane helped her rinse her hair and talked about the prisoners some more. They didn't have towels, so she squeezed water from her hair as best she could and they both got dressed damp and shivering. She immediately started complaining about him dumping her into the lake at the quarry again, and promised she was going to enact her revenge some day soon.

Shane ran his fingers through her hair, working some of the worst of the knots out with his fingers, and almost told her he loved her right there, with her scowling up at him and talking shit about pranks wars. 

He kissed her instead, and they headed back to C block hand in hand.

"Where the hell have you...." Rick trailed off, head tilting to the side and humor dancing in his eyes as he looked at them. 

Shane met his gaze levelly and shrugged. "Showers work." 

Maggie and Glenn glanced at each other, then at Shane and Ace. Shane bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as they edged slowly toward the door, trying to look casual. 

Rick nodded and didn't say anything else about it, but Dixon was eyeing his sister with open amusement that promised he'd be picking on them both later. Shane didn't care. He wasn't ashamed of anything when it came to Ace, least of all how badly he wanted her.

"We'll, uh. We'll be back," Glenn declared to the room at large before following Maggie out. 

Ace cracked up, glancing over her shoulder at Shane as she wandered toward the food they'd taken from the inmates. "Told you we needed to leave them some hot water. Oh well." 

Carol laughed the loudest, much to Shane's surprise.


	54. Lie #54: "I Won't Let You Turn" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
major character death (cannon)   
vague threat of rape/non con

You eyed the prisoners sideways as Rick and the others debated. You agreed with Daryl and Shane and Rick- let them take their chances on the road. Shit, they were in prison. They were there for a reason. And yes, you knew irony when it happened outside of an Alanis Morrissette song.

You rested your chin on Shane's shoulder and enjoyed the way he leaned back slightly into you as he debated with T Dog. 

"I get guys like this. Hell, Ace and I grew up with 'em. They're degenerates, but they ain't psychos. I could have been in here with 'em just as easy as I'm out here with you guys," Daryl put in. 

You snorted. "Mr. No Record? Please." 

"So do you two agree with me, then?" T Dog asked. 

"Hell no. Let 'em take their chances out on the road, just like we did," Daryl said with a scoff. 

You nodded as best you could with your chin on Shane and gestured with one hand. "What he said." 

"When I was a rookie I arrested this kid. Nineteen years old, wanted for stabbing his girlfriend," Rick started. 

You shifted slightly as Shane scoffed. "I remember that one," he muttered. "Little asshole. Cleaned up all white-bread American, blubbered like a baby during his interview, right?"

Rick nodded. "And the trial. Suckered the jury. He was acquitted due to insufficient evidence and then, two weeks later, shot another girl." 

Shane sighed, his hand coming to rest over yours against his side and gripping it tightly. "That one was rough. I'm with Rick here. We've been through too much. We've got Carl and Lori and Beth to think of. Not letting anyone in that might hurt us." 

"Our deal with them stands," Rick declared. 

"Let's shift the cars to the upper yard. Point them facing out. They'll be out of the way but ready to go if we ever need to bail," Rick said, tossing Glenn the keys to the inside gate. Rick glanced at T Dog as he continued. "We'll give the prisoners a week's worth of supplies for the road." 

"Might not last a week," T observed, sounding annoyed. 

Rick shrugged. "Their choice." 

Shane pulled you off to the side as T and Rick started to argue. "Take the Hyundai up?" 

You shot him a look, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at him. "This some macho bullshit?" 

"Yeah," he admitted with an easy shrug, utterly unrepentant and not at all bothered by your show of annoyance. "We're going out to get firewood and start burning. I don't want you near those two, even if there'll be a gate between you." 

You wanted to be irritated, but goddamn it, he flashed you that smile and slid his arm around you, and like you had since the shower, you fucking melted. The things he'd said, standing beneath the hot water with his hands on you had been frighteningly close to what you'd known since the farm. You'd been in love with him probably since that first night, and the way he'd looked at you while working tangles from your hair, his hand gentle on your face as he kissed you- it looked a lot like how 'I love you' should feel, right? You wanted to say it to him, had tried to, but something held you back. 

Instead of getting irritated, you sighed and leaned in for a kiss. 

"Ace! Stop makin' out and come take the bike up!" Daryl yelled. 

That certainly got your attention. You broke away from Shane and turned to stare at Daryl. Axel, the one with red hair who talked all the damn time, looked from Daryl to you to the bike and started to speak, but your brother shot him a disgusted look. 

"Are you serious?" you yelled, letting go of Shane and jogging down toward Daryl. "You want me to drive the bike?" 

Daryl shrugged. "Ya know how well enough. Just take it up and don't make it a thing." Daryl's eyes strayed beyond you toward where you knew Shane was and you fought the urge to roll your own. 

"You two are too overprotective for your own fucking good," you told him in a low voice as you kissed his cheek. "I might need you to help me start it." 

Daryl grunted. "Just kick it to life, sis. Yeah, right there. Go." 

You gave it a hard kick and the engine roared. 

"That a twin cylinder?" you heard Axel call as you settled into the saddle. You'd driven it a couple times over the winter, but it still wasn't something you were utterly comfortable with. 

On the other hand, every time you did, Shane looked at you like- 

Like that.

You revved it and took off, grinning as Shane didn't even pretend he wasn't checking you out hard. He turned to watch as you drove by, biting his lip as he did. You laughed on your way past, going slowly over the gravel since you weren't entirely confident. 

You were gonna get lucky tonight, if that look was any indication. Maybe you'd kick Maggie and Glenn out of the guard tower and take it over for the night. Maybe you'd find yourselves a different quiet corner instead. 

It took both you and T Dog to get the bike into position, since you had to walk it part of the way. You were strong, sure, but you weren't Wonder Woman. You didn't have the upper body strength of Daryl or Shane, and if the damn thing fell you'd never get it upright again. So, you asked for help. 

You flashed a smile at Carol and Maggie as you and T got the bike where you wanted it and you set the kickstand. "That's not as easy as Daryl makes it look!" you called to them, and they laughed. 

You and T headed to meet them, T Dog still seeming off. He looked toward the prisoners, both of them waiting in the cage for the supplies Rick had decided to give them for their journey. 

"You don't agree with us about them," you said, glancing his way. 

He sighed. "I think there are ways to lose your humanity that don't involve killing people outright. Shane and Rick, they did what they had to do in the tombs, when Tomas came at them. Killing Tomas and Andrew, that had to happen. Turning these two loose is the same thing- but we keep the ability to step back and say 'we gave them a chance.' It just don't sit right is all." 

You nodded, but you'd reached Carol and Maggie so you let the subject drop. You got what he was saying, you did. You just didn't care. Killing them yourselves, physically, or killing them by turning them loose- it didn't matter. They couldn't stay, because they were a threat. And the right choice was the one that kept you alive, no matter what it was. 

"Hey, check this out," T Dog said, shading his eyes as Hershel came out with Beth, Lori, and Carl. The old man had crutches he was using to get around, looking determined and remarkably stable. 

From the fence, Glenn sent up a cheer that was rapidly silenced. You glanced toward the guys and waved, and Shane waved back. For a split second, everything felt like it was coming together. The prison was getting cleaned up, Hershel was getting better, Shane looked at you like you were the greatest thing to walk the earth- what could go wrong, right?

The screaming started. 

"No!" Rick yelled and took off running. Shane and Daryl were yelling as well, and you turned as if in slow motion to see walkers boiling out of the courtyard. 

Toward Carl and Beth. Toward Hershel. Toward Lori. 

"Shit," you mumbled, fumbling your gun out as you took off running with the others. 

You couldn't have said exactly how it happened, after it was over. 

You were at T Dog's side when he noticed the gate was open, firing on the fly and doing far worse than you would have if you'd taken your time and planted your feet. Panic coursed through you, though, because the kids and the mother of Shane's baby and the old man who you needed to deliver that baby safely were up there alone, and you had to get to them. 

"That gate is open," T yelled, and you saw it. 

You knew that gate had been closed before. You knew with certainty that it had been locked and secure, because Shane had checked it last night. He checked it every fucking night. So did Rick. 

"On it," you snarled, seeing Hershel and Beth safe from the corner of your eye. You picked off a walker too damn close to Carl and Lori and ran past them as Maggie called for them to come to her. 

Carl started to follow you, but you whirled and shoved your knife through the skull of a walker as Carol and T Dog ran with you. 

"Go with your mom!" You snapped it over your shoulder and gestured with your knife before flinging yourself back into the mess. "Carol, watch your ass. T, help me." 

Carol cleared the nearest door as you and T ran for the gate. When you reached it, you kicked a dead bastard wearing a remarkably clean tie backward into the others, a wild kick on the fly you prayed had more substance than it felt like it did. It seemed to work, at least well enough for you and T to start sliding the gate closed. Unfortunately, it didn't work for long, and the reaching fingers were keeping you from securing it again. 

"T, I gotta kill some. You push, I'll stab," you grunted, and let go to do so. The gate clanged shut, finally, and you whipped your belt off and hooked it through the gate and the fence. The padlock usually in place lay broken on the ground, and you kicked it as you fumbled to tighten the buckle.

T started screaming right in your ear. 

You whirled, knife automatically sinking into the ear of the walker with its rotten teeth in T Dog's throat. T Dog met your eyes grimly, covering the chunk of missing flesh with one hand as if to stop the bleeding, but both of you knew what it meant. 

"In here," Carol called as the dead fuckers somehow still everywhere started closing in. 

You shoved T Dog ahead of you, taking out a two more as you scanned to make sure no one else was left behind. You couldn't see any of the others, including Shane or Daryl or Rick or Glenn. You were considering staying out here in the mess and waiting for them when Carol grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back. You reached out and slammed the door closed in the face of one particularly ugly bitch with no nose and half her cheek dangling. 

"Holy fuck," you muttered, wondering if you could puke now or what. 

"Keep moving! They're in here too!" T Dog yelled, and you braced yourself. 

It wasn't over yet. 

"Double doors up ahead will lead to a corridor that'll get you two back to the cell block. Ace, you know the way?" T Dog's voice was tight with pain as he spoke rapidly. 

You couldn't believe he was still moving, with the blood seeping out from under his fingers to stain his shirt. You could feel guilty later, you ordered the tears rising in your eyes at his determined tone. You had Carol to keep alive right now. 

"Yeah, I know it," you assured him. "T, slow down." 

"I'm getting you back safe," he snapped. "I'm not waiting around to die." 

"I'll take care of it, T," you said grimly. "I won't let you turn."

"No. Get Carol-" 

Four walkers stumbled out of the hallway, cutting you and T Dog off from Carol at precisely the right moment. Because of course they did. That was just how this whole fucking thing was going, goddamn it.

"Go! Just go!" you yelled to her, backpedaling rapidly toward the direction you'd come. Carol could get back to C from where she was, and you could take the long way around- probably. 

"Ace! T Dog!" 

"Carol, fucking run!" 

T threw himself to the walkers, arms wide open, when a second batch joined the first. He turned as the teeth sank into him and ordered you to go. You hesitated as his screams filled the air all around you, but the right choice was the one that kept you alive. 

Shane was up there waiting for you somewhere. 

You went.

Lights flashed and alarms blared as you tried to sneak through the halls. Alone, you could be quick and fast, like running from the police in Atlanta. You kept getting cut off at every turn, and you gave up when the alarms started. At this point you were dodging walkers and just trying to survive. Shane and Daryl would be tearing this place up any minute now, you thought grimly. 

You crashed through a door just ahead of a shambling group, leaning your back against it and holding out hope that they'd keep on going, lured by the next flashing red light in the line. When no bodies rattled the doors or hissing moans filled the air, you thought maybe they had. You looked around rapidly, eyes narrowing when you saw generators and heard the whir of machinery. 

You hadn't had two seconds to think since Rick started screaming, but these things didn't turn themselves on. That padlock on the gate didn't break itself either, and there was no way this many walkers were in here without there being some other doors open where they shouldn't have been. Hell, there hadn't been this many walkers when your people had found the cafeteria or when you and Carl found the infirmary. 

Something was rotten in Denmark, and you wanted to know what it was. Who could possibly-- 

"Hey, baby. Nice to see you again." 

It was the scrawny bastard who'd fucking winked at you and asked if there were any other pretty ladies around. Your lip curled in a sneer. 

"This your doing?" you asked, pushing off the door and bringing up your knife. You'd shoved your gun into the back of your waistband when you went into stealth mode earlier. You were regretting that now, as the scrawny fucker lifted an ax and shook his head. 

"Put that down, sweet cheeks. What happened to you wanting to be all nice and friendly?" 

You shrugged. "That was before you got at least one friend of mine killed. He was a good man. Turn the alarms off." 

"I don't think so. I'm gonna take back this prison, and you and me are gonna get acquainted. I like you. You're pretty. And from what I saw with that cop bastard, you're no cold lay either," he said with another lazy rove of his eyes over your body. 

You snorted. "I'll rip your dick off and feed it to you. And if I don't, God knows Shane will. Turn them off. Now." 

He shook his head. "No. Put that knife down before I show you how a man does things." 

"Oh I have a feeling I know perfectly well how a man like you does things," you muttered. "You can pry it from my cold dead fingers- which by the way is the only way you'll get your hands on me, ever." 

He shrugged. "Ain't ideal, but-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, don't finish that sentence," you interrupted him, disgusted. 

"Daryl, get the door. Holy- drop it now!" Rick came slamming through the door with Shane right behind him, already calling orders before he saw the horrifying little prick. You let out a premature breath of relief on seeing the cavalry arrive, because as usual it wasn't over yet. 

The crazy asshole charged right at Rick, who fired even as the asshole knocked his gun toward the side. His shot went wild, winging by your head and you fucking froze. You couldn't do anything but stand and stare as Rick and the asshole struggled, Shane took him out with a knife to the head, and one of the prisoners handed Rick back his gun and turned off the generators. 

You were breathing hard and trying to order your body to just fucking work already, goddamn it, as Shane crossed the room in the blink of an eye and grabbed you by the arms, asking you something in a urgent voice. You wanted to respond. You needed to respond. You needed to tell him you were ok and what had happened to T and ask about the others, but- 

Yeah, nothing was cooperating, and he was looking increasingly frantic. Which didn't help at all. 

Daryl stepped over and told Shane to calm down. He gave you a steady look at he talked to Shane, his eyes cautiously concerned. "Will almost fuckin' shot her when we were kids. Give her a goddamn minute, that shot of Rick's was too fuckin' close. Ace?" 

You sucked in a harsh breath as the adrenaline finally fucking faded enough to give you some measure of control, swiping a shaking hand over your face. "Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. T Dog's dead." 

"Come here," Shane growled. He shoved Daryl out of the way again to pull you to him and run his hands over your arms and frame your face with his hands. He looked into your eyes as some of the wildness in his seemed to ease. "You ok? You bit, you scratched? Slugger." 

"No, I- I'm fine. I'm fine. Lori, Carl, Hershel?" 

"We've got to get back," Rick said grimly. 

You found what was left of T Dog. Near his body Daryl found Carol's scarf. You looked at Shane. 

"I left him. He told me to and I left him. He was already bit and he threw himself to them so I could get away. But Carol- we got separated earlier on. She should have made it; she was right there," you whispered, that guilt you'd shoved aside for later coming back hard and ugly. 

Shane laid a hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lightly over your lip. "You listen to me, Ace. You did the right thing. He was dead already and he told you to go. You stayed alive. That's the right choice, you hear me? You stayed alive." 

He kissed you roughly when you nodded, leaning his forehead to yours before letting you go. 

"Thank God," you whispered when you came into the courtyard and saw Hershel and Beth safe. "The others? Maggie, Carl, Lori?" 

"You didn't find them?" Hershel asked. 

"We thought they might have come back here," Rick answered grimly. "T Dog and Carol didn't make it. That doesn't mean the others didn't. Shane, you and Daryl-" 

A baby started crying, hungry and needy, and you turned slowly as Shane's face went pale and his eyes widened. You took one look at the bloody on Maggie's hands and the look in her eyes and you knew.


	55. Lie #55: "I'm Ok" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
cannon divergence  
major character death (cannon)   
past miscarriage/ pregnancy loss  
past child abuse

Rick fucking lost it. You stood frozen in place, staring at the baby in Maggie's arms, and wondered how in the hell this had happened. 

Everything had been good. You'd been safe; plans were being made; Hershel was getting better. Now Carol and T Dog and Lori were dead. Carl didn't have a mother, you'd lost two good friends, and Maggie and Carl looked like they'd been through a hell you could only imagine. 

And Shane's baby was crying. 

Shane moved first, after Rick collapsed, looking torn between Carl, Rick, and the tiny thing Maggie handed to Carl. Shane went to them- to Carl and his baby- as Daryl tried to see if Rick was alright. It was Daryl who asked about food first, while Hershel looked Shane's daughter over. Shane had a daughter. 

"She needs formula. And soon, or she won't survive," the old man said slowly. 

"Nope. No way. Not her. We ain't losin' anybody else. I'm goin' for a run," Daryl said firmly. He hooked the crossbow over his back as Maggie volunteered to go with him. 

Daryl nodded at her and his eyes met yours. "Yeah, gimme two minutes. Get what ya need. Sis, come give me a hand," he ordered, jerking his head toward the bike. 

You followed along behind him, not sure if you wanted to be more numb or less so. There was too much. It was all just too damn much, too damn fast. He eyed you when you reached the bike and set a hand on your shoulder. 

"Ya aight?" 

You shrugged. "This is so not about me, Dar." 

"I know it ain't easy. Plus T and Carol on top of it, and whatever happened with that asshole before we came in-" 

You cut him off, lifting one shaking hand. "Dar, I'm fine. I mean, I'm barely holding it together, but I am doing it. Go. Shane's baby needs things. Maybe check on Maggie; there's a lot of blood on her hands so it's pretty safe to say whatever happened was fairly horrible." 

He nodded. "Yeah. I can imagine," he said, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. 

You looked away, because you knew he could. Maybe not as bad as what had happened today, but he'd seen some horrible one night with you as well.

"Rick!" Shane's worried yell cut across the courtyard, and you whirled in time to see Rick stalking into the cell block, ax in hand. Shane looked stressed and overwhelmed, and you took a deep breath and told yourself to get it fucking together. 

"Watch your back," you told Daryl. "I'll hold down the fort here. Get a move on."

You strode back toward the group as Daryl kicked the bike to life. 

"You two, get the fucking gate open," you snapped to the prisoners. "Maggie, go. Beth, come here." 

Beth came over to you and you glanced at Carl, standing with Shane and Hershel and the baby. 

"Carl just lost his mom, and Rick's- well, I don't know what Rick's doing. Stay close to him would you?" you whispered. 

She nodded seriously and you patted her shoulder as you turned back to the group, trying to think about what else needed to be done right away. You ran a hand over your hair and turned to Glenn. 

"Glenn, we need-" 

"Graves," he said quietly. "Yeah. I'll do it." 

"Actually I was thinking to start clearing the dead out again, but yeah. Yeah, that's important too," you muttered. "Thanks. Before that, I need you to come with me. We gotta make sure the cell block's clear, so we can get the baby inside." 

Glenn nodded and you started for C block. 

"Ace, what-" Shane reached for your arm as you passed him. 

You paused to find a smile for him, trying to hide how churned up you were. He had enough on his hands with the crying little girl in his arms and Carl's haunted eyes. "We're checking the cell block so you can get her inside. Don't argue; we can handle it." 

He looked like he wanted to argue, or at the very least like he wanted to go with you, but you shook your head and kissed his cheek, letting your lips linger against his skin as much for your comfort as his. 

"Stay with her. We got this," you whispered.

You cleared the cell block- there was only one dead fucker wandering around- and got the gates closed and locked. Glenn went back out to send the others in and start on the clean up, and you… 

You walked into your cell, laid down on the bottom bunk, and curled into a ball, facing the wall. You were done. You needed a damn minute before you went back out there and stayed strong for Shane. 

You just needed a damn minute, you thought as tears started sliding from your eyes.

Pain woke you up; a sharp, cramping pain low in your abdomen. You winced and tried to sit up, but you couldn't straighten all way with your stomach muscles clenched so goddamn tight. 

You gritted your teeth and breathed until whatever it was relaxed, then ran a shaking hand over your face. Will had gone fairly easy on you, all things considered. You knew better than to talk to him like that. Hitting the counter had hurt like hell, but you'd checked already and there weren't any visible bruises, so you figured it was fine. 

You sat up in bed, stretching cautiously, but so far the pain seemed to be gone. A glance at the clock showed 2 am, and you looked over to make sure Daryl was home and in bed, not staying out all night with his latest tramp girlfriend. 

You should probably be nicer to him. And his tramps, you thought idly. He was your brother after all. 

You reached over the headboard to grab your sketchbook from the desk behind you, and the pain slammed into you again, but worse. 

You knocked the sketchbook to the floor as you curled into a ball again, unable to stay upright or control the inhuman noise that slid out of you along with the sudden tears. 

"Ace?" Daryl whispered. "You aight?" 

You couldn't get words out, since it felt like someone was trying to simultaneously stab you in the stomach and tie your abdominal muscles into a knot. You could only whimper as you curled even tighter, trying to ease the cramping. It didn't work. 

Daryl's bed rustled as he rose and crossed over to yours. "Ace?" 

The cramp released, finally, and in the sudden absence of pain you gasped again, just as shocked as when it began. "Dar, I don't know- fuck!" 

Another one started, and with it you felt something trickling between your legs. You hoped to god you hadn't peed yourself from pain, because really that would just be too damn fucking much. What the hell had Will done to you? Jesus, he hadn't even hit you that hard!

"Imma turn on a light, Ace," Daryl said, sounding worried. 

You couldn't respond and light flared from the lamp on your desk. You squeezed your eyes tighter closed and tried not to scream. Screaming might wake Will up, and that would be bad. Like a twenty on a scale of one to ten.

"Shit. Shit, Ace, you're- you're bleedin'." 

The pain backed off, not completely gone but fading enough that you could gasp something out. Being an articulate bitch, all you managed was "what?"

"Yeah, ya- Uh, it's not a lot, but that ain't supposed to happen when you're pregnant, right?" Daryl sounded both panicked and uncertain, not at all surprising considering he was teenage boy talking to his pregnant sister about bleeding while she semi-writhed in pain. You opened your eyes and looked down. Sure enough, you were bleeding. And it definitely wasn't supposed to be happening, if your sex ed classes were anything resembling accurate. 

"I- I don't think so-" you said slowly, and sat up. 

You went lightheaded with the rush of pain, and what had felt like a trickle no worse than getting your period turned into Niagara fucking falls. 

"Oh Jesus. Oh fuckin'- Holy shit. Lay back down. Now, Ace, do it. I'm callin' Merle." Daryl was officially freaking, and to be fair so were you. You started to speak, but his voice faded into the background as the cramping came back. You curled back into a ball and bit down on your lip hard, until you tasted blood and the sting managed to distract you just the smallest bit from the agony elsewhere. 

If you made a fucking mess and woke Will up, he'd give you a new scar and something to bleed over. Or worse, he'd take it out on Daryl. 

By the time Merle showed up, it was over and you knew it. You were almost glad, because this was what you'd wanted. You wanted your body to handle it, no decisions necessary from you. Right?

Problem was, the pain hadn't stopped and you still couldn't straighten up all the way, and Daryl and Merle were freaking out about the blood. 

To be fair, it was a lot of blood. Even you were worried about it, when you could think around the pain. 

"We gotta- aight, baby brother, we're takin' her to the hospital. We cain't handle this shit on our own," Merle declared about two seconds after he walked in. "Ace? Sugar, we gotta go. Can you walk or do we need to carry you?" 

You pried your eyes open to see both of your brothers' concerned faces hovering over you, Merle's jaw tight and Daryl still looking low-key panicked. You tried to stand and immediately went right back down. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen." 

"Shit," Daryl mumbled. 

Merle grunted, and the world dropped away from you as he scooped you up. "Daryl, grab those towels and get Will's keys. Cain't take her on the bike. Come on, lil sister, I got you." 

You lay your head on his shoulder and felt tears trickle down to soak his shirt as another cramp started. You opened your eyes just long enough to see Will passed out in his chair, beer in hand, and felt a wave of hatred so intense it overwhelmed the pain for a moment. 

This was his fault. He'd knocked you into the counter and now you'd lost a baby that sure, you hadn't wanted to begin with. But he'd done this to you. 

Or you'd done this to you. You'd opened your goddamn mouth and bitched at him instead of following all the carefully honed instincts you'd developed over the years and not engaging. You knew how to protect yourself, knew you couldn't stand up to him. But you'd done it anyway and you'd gotten not only yourself but your baby hurt in the process. 

Hell, you'd gotten your baby killed. 

Maybe it was a good thing you'd lost it. Some mother you would have made, you thought as Merle set you down in the truck. Daryl slid along the seat beside you and reached for your hand, and you curled against him when the next wave had you doubled over and gasping. 

You’d stopped crying by the time Shane came to find you, so that was good. On the other hand, the guilt over not keeping Carol and T Dog safe was rearing its ugly bastard head, and you were analyzing every chaotic moment of the attack to figure out what you could have done differently. You should have been watching T Dog’s back. You should have fought your way through those four walkers to Carol, not let her go on her own. Jesus, it was only four of them. You should have-

“Ace?” Shane whispered your name from behind you, his boots scuffing the ground before his weight shifted the thin prison mattress. “You good, sweetheart?” 

He ran a hand over your hair and down your back as he spoke. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy it before you sat up and turned to him with an attempt at a smile you figured wouldn’t have fooled anyone, much less him. 

“I’m ok,” you lied through your teeth. “You should be out there with your baby.” 

“Baby’s fine. Daryl and Maggie are back. Daryl’s feeding her now,” he said, eyes going soft. “He’s named her Little Ass-kicker. Got a soft spot for little ones, apparently.” 

You smiled slightly, more real this time than before. “He always has,” you agreed. 

Daryl was the softest touch of the three of you, you thought, if anyone bothered to get past that rough exterior. It's why he'd followed Merle with blind loyalty; why he'd been so goddamn angry every time Mal drove you apart. He’d been- hell, sometimes you thought the miscarriage had hurt him worse than it did you. He'd already decided he was going to take care of you and the baby, no matter what. 

You forced that thought aside and tried to focus on Shane. He needed you to be his rock right now, what with Rick gone crazy and everything else going on. 

“Slugger,” he whispered, reaching out to swipe a tear from your cheek. 

You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again. He’d been staring intently at your face, and he sighed now as he cupped your cheek in his hand. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” 

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I’m fine, Shane. This isn’t- Lori just died. Your baby was just born. T Dog and Carol are gone, and Rick's down there going crazy. It’s so not about me right now.” 

He pulled you to him, until he could bury his face in your neck the way he liked to do. His lips brushed your skin as he spoke. 

“I know you’re lying to me. I wish- I mean, it’s a lot right now. I won’t lie, I’m barely holding my head up. But you matter too, Slugger, and I know this ain’t easy for you. Not with being with T and Carol, not the baby. I know. Wish you’d talk to me. Let me help.” 

You automatically ran your fingers through his short hair and scratched lightly at his scalp. He sighed and somehow held you you even closer, in his lap with his arms around you. You tried to find the words to tell him what all was going on, and you couldn't. So you gave him what you could. 

"I should have fought my way to Carol. Should have watched T's back," you managed.

"Aw, that's crap and you know it. You got that damn gate closed. And you can't second guess your decisions in the field, girl. Leads down a rabbit hole you won't escape from." 

You sighed. "I know. How's everyone handling things?"

He was silent for a while, and you started doodling patterns in his hair with your fingers as your tried to quiet your mind. It wasn't working, but at least you weren't thinking about the cold touch of gloved hands, rough sheets and beeping machinery, and a dispassionate voice delivering news that made you angry and relieved all at once.

"It's bad, Ace. I don't know what to do about Rick. Carl's- Carl put Lori down. I can't even imagine," Shane finally said to your shoulder. 

"Jesus," you mumbled. "I- Holy fuck." 

"Yeah. He's- he's gonna be messed up awhile, and with Rick down in the lower levels killing walkers and threatening Glenn, I'm the closest thing Carl's got to a parent." 

"Wait, Rick's what? Rick threatened Glenn?" 

Shane lifted his head from your shoulder with a grimace as your hand slid to his neck and you stared at him. "Yeah, sorry. Glenn went to check on him and Rick pinned him against the wall. Took a minute before Rick figured out Glenn was a friend, not a walker. I'm worried, Ace. I'm so fuckin' worried." 

"Of course you are," you agreed, eyes wide. "Of course you are. Ok, I- enough moping in here. I'm coming out with you, try to help. Carl's a good kid, maybe I can get him to talk to me a little." 

You started to climb out of Shane's lap, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back down. You struggled briefly as he wrapped an arm around your waist again and threaded his fingers in your hair. 

"Slugger. It's bad, yeah. But so is the look in your eyes. I can't handle everything else if I'm worried about you, too. Come on, talk to me. Please?" he asked, giving you a serious look.


	56. Lie #56: "I Won't" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
domestic violence/abuse  
emotional abuse  
past miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
past child abuse  
contemplated murder

She looked pale and exhausted and so goddamn sad, he couldn't stand it. It wasn't that he didn't understand. He did. Three people gone, in one fell swoop because of that little bastard. 

T Dog was a good man. Carol had just started to become someone tough and strong like his Ace, instead of the meek mouse her husband had made her into. 

And Lori. 

Shane's heart ached with loss. Even if he'd come close to hating her more than once over the last year, he'd loved her. She was Rick's high school sweetheart, Rick's wife. She'd been like a sister to him for years. She was Carl's mother, the mother of Shane's child, and how she was gone. 

Shane knew there was a bit of him that would never recover, and he couldn't even imagine what was going through Rick's head. 

On top of that, Maggie and Carl had gone through hell, all alone. Maggie had cut Lori open, knowing full well it would kill her. All to give Shane's baby a chance to live. And Carl had- Carl had done the unthinkable. 

Ace tried to say she was fine, but Shane didn’t think she was even fooling herself. She dodged and evaded, trying to focus on him and not talk about the shadows in her own eyes. Shane was getting used to it, however, and he’d gotten a hell of a lot better at reaching her. He held firm, insisting she let him help. 

He ran his fingers through her hair and held her eyes, and she closed hers against the tears swimming in them. 

"Shane, I- it's so selfish. It's so selfish and self-indulgent and I hate myself for it. Carl's mom is gone. Rick's wife is gone, the mother of your child- and I'm in here curled in a ball because of something my rat bastard of a father once said to me." She sniffed, shaking her head in clear disgust with herself. "I don't even know- Daryl says I have to let it go." 

"I don't even know what it is, sweetheart, but I agree with Dixon," Shane said quietly. "Tell me. It's not selfish or self-indulgent, and if it turns out it is, you know I'll set you straight, Slugger." 

She chuckled and wiped at the tear that ran down her cheek. "Damn it. Fine. I told you, I smarted off to him and he knocked me around, right? Into the counter, and it- it triggered the miscarriage?" 

Shane played with the ends of her hair and forced himself to stay calm. She wouldn't open up if he showed her how much just those couple of sentences filled him with the need to keep her wrapped up and safe while he killed anything that threatened her. She'd hate it, and she'd clam up and not tell him whatever she was actually looking like she might tell him now. He settled for simply nodding and waiting. 

"That's not really the end of the story," she admitted, making a face. 

Shane rolled his eyes and tugged lightly on her hair to make her smile. "You think I didn't figure that out? You're a vault, girl. Talk." 

She tried to pull away from him. Shane was figuring out that was a part of it for her. She shut down, ran away, drew back- all so no one could hurt her. 

He got that. He'd done the same to his mom when his sister died and his dad left. He got the impulse, and hell, he probably still did it. He probably still expected the people he cared about to leave him, which- light bulb moment- was why he didn't bother with searching for commitment. He didn't trust it, which made no fucking sense considering he had lifelong friends in Rick and Lori and Ace. 

So he refused to let her pull away. He did the opposite, curling her closer to him insistently. He thought maybe he'd figured the secret out when she sighed and snuggled into him, her fingers going back to scratching against his scalp. 

"A week after the miscarriage, he got a bill from the hospital. Daryl called Merle- we shared a room until we moved out of Will's apartment, so when it- when it happened, he woke up. He saw the blood and freaked out; called Merle. By the time Merle got there I'd already figured out it was too late, but I was still in so damn much pain they took me to the hospital anyway," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper, low enough that Shane had to strain himself to catch every word. 

She paused and he waited, not doing anything that might make her close down again. He heard the catch in her voice as she said the next bit, and wondered if she'd ever said it out loud before. 

"When Will found the bills he was pissed. We didn't have any insurance, you know, and- well, emergency rooms aren't cheap. He yelled for a bit, said they should have known better when it was just my period. Asshole. I was seventeen; even if they didn't know better, I did, and did he think I'd have just gone along with it for kicks? Whatever. They defended me, both of them, and when he realized I'd miscarried, he-" She paused and drew in a shaky breath, fingers stilling in his hair. 

Shane didn't think she was going to keep talking, but she did. 

"He told me if I was going to spread it for any randy little asshole I wanted, I needed to make sure it wouldn't cost him any money while I did it. Told me to get some pills or get my brothers to show me how to use a condom." 

"Fucker." Shane couldn't help it; the word slipped out before he could stop himself. 

She laughed, but there was zero humor in it. "Just wait. I'm not to the best part. Merle… My brother is an asshole, hands down. But that night? Merle was a fucking rock. And for the week after, he was always around. He checked on us, brought groceries. He was there when Will started talking shit. Will said something along the lines of I was his daughter, he would say or do whatever he wanted to make sure I didn't pop out any brats and cost him more money." 

Shane managed to keep the words he was thinking in that time, but it was a close thing. 

She shifted a little, her cheek on his shoulder and her nose brushing his neck. "Merle yelled at him that I couldn't have kids and it was his fault, for knocking me into the counter. It wasn't. It was my fault, for talking back. I knew better. I knew what he would do." 

"Fuck that shit, Slugger," Shane snapped. He tugged her until he could see her face, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Fuck that shit completely. What the damn-" 

"I'm not done," she whispered, still looking somewhere over his shoulder. 

Shane shut his mouth and waited. 

She sucked in a ragged breath. "He said- he said it was a good thing. That I couldn't have kids. So I could take care of him for the rest of my life. Because no man would ever want me for more than a quick fuck if I couldn't give them sons." 

He stared at her, mind blank with the roar of rage that filled it. 

Her lips twisted and she closed her eyes. "Thing is, Shane… I think he might have been right." 

"The fuck you-" he started, unable to believe what he was hearing. He cut himself off and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "That's not flattering to either of us, Ace." 

He heard the anger in his voice, that she could think so little of herself, and so little of him. That what she thought he was doing with her? Just a quick fuck and then on to the next? 

But shit, he thought tiredly in the next heartbeat. She had every right to think that. How many times had she played wing woman for him? How many times had he texted her with another girl's number and a winking face, or told her he was planning date number three, or talked about how he'd had his fun and parted ways amicably with his girl of the week? 

Shit. 

Shane was suddenly glad he hadn't told her he loved her. She'd have even less reason to believe it than he thought she did.

She was looking down, chewing on her thumbnail so hard Shane could see blood. He snatched her hand away from her teeth, pressing a kiss to the bleeding finger before holding her hand against his cheek. 

"I know," she whispered finally, voice raw. "I know, ok? And I don't- I don't believe you'd ever think that way intentionally. But Mal didn't either. At first. He always said it didn't matter, but it did. I know it did. Please don't- please don't ask me how I know that; I can't talk about it right now." 

Shane's jaw went hard but he pressed a kiss to her palm. "I won't. For now. Ace." 

"I know. I know, he's wrong. There's plenty of healthy, loving couples who never have children. I know it all, Shane, ok? Please don't- I'm so tired. Please just hold me awhile, then go back to your little girl. She and Carl need you." 

He studied her, slumped in his lap with her eyes closed and pain and guilt in every line of her face and her body, and he couldn't deny that plea in her voice. 

Ace fell asleep in his arms, so he eased her down and draped the flannel shirt over her. Woman needed a shower, same as him, but she needed sleep more. 

He stared at her for a long time before he walked out of the cell and back into the common room. 

Carl held the baby, now diapered, fed, wrapped up in a blanket like a tiny burrito, and sound asleep. Shane checked in on them first, and Carl smiled at him and said he was ok. Shane kissed Carl's head and the baby's, and headed across the room, motioning Daryl and Glenn over to him. 

"I'm gonna go check on Rick. Yeah, I know, it didn't end well when Glenn did it, but I need to. Dixon." Shane paused, trying to figure out what to say as he stared at the door. Finally he looked at Daryl, who had his eyes narrowed on Shane's face like he suspected what was coming. 

"Your sister's asleep. She wakes up looking for me, tell her I'll be back, ok?" he said finally. It wasn't what he wanted to say, wasn't what he wanted to know, but Shane knew better than to try to get information from Daryl. 

He'd just have to figure out a way to get Ace to talk, once and for all. He had to be able to crack open her goddamn vault somehow, right? 

Daryl looked at Shane like he knew exactly what the other man was thinking and nodded shortly. "I'll check in on her in a bit."

Shane clapped Daryl on the shoulder once and headed into the tombs. 

Rick had left a trail of dead walkers in his wake and Shane followed it, hoping viciously that his friend had left some for him. If Rick hadn’t, Shane was heading outside that damn gate next, because he needed to kill something. 

Not wanted to. Needed to. 

He heard the grunt, the wet crunch, and a low hissing moan around the corner and he smiled grimly. He spun his knife in his hand and came out swinging, taking down a dead bastard while Rick handled one of his own. It was far too easy, and Shane turned to Rick with his rage far from sated. 

Rick was covered in blood and worse, his eyes blank and cold in his gore-spattered face. Shane knew in an an hour or so, after he’d let loose the monster in his own head, he’d be worried as hell about his brother. Right now he only cared about finding another walker. 

Shane met Rick’s eyes until Rick looked away and started down the corridor. Shane fell in beside him without a word. 

While he killed, he thought. He didn’t know what Rick was doing while they slaughtered walkers side by side, but each one Shane killed had one of two faces: Malcolm fucking Hall's, or what he imagined Will fucking Dixon to look like, all big and mean and ugly and with the eyes Ace and Daryl shared. Shane enjoyed stabbing out those eyes, cause Will didn’t deserve to have any part of her. Hell, any part of Daryl either, since Ace’s twin had turned out to be a decent damn person too. 

Made him wonder about Merle in a way he hadn’t expected. 

He grabbed a walker, holding it at arm’s length, and for some reason started punching. Rick could handle the other two and watch Shane’s ass while he worked some of this shit out. He punched over and over and over, like he had with Ed, and the thing’s face dissolved into pulp. Something happened as Shane beat the holy hell out of some dead bastard, and a primal scream ripped out of him. 

The walker was Lori, was Malcolm, was Ed, was Will, was that little bastard who’d gotten Lori killed, was the whole fucking universe that had ganged up on Shane and put him in this place, this moment. It was everything that had hurt him, Rick and Carl and Lori, Ace. 

When he finally let the thing fall and sucked in oxygen, there was nothing left but a broken crater where it’s face had been, and Shane had what he figured was brains in his hair. He dropped it, wiped his knife off on his leg, and sheathed it again. 

He clapped Rick on the shoulder as his friend watched him with those distant eyes and headed back up to the showers.

In the shower, while water ran red and black and he missed Ace’s teasing and her fingers in his hair, he decided enough was enough. He didn’t know how, but he was going to get that woman to tell him everything, once and for all- so he’d know and so she’d get it out and maybe start to heal. 

“Thing is, Shane…. I think he might have been right.” The ghost of her voice saying those words would haunt him, probably for the rest of his life. 

How dare she? He thought viciously as he scrubbed at the blood embedded in his knuckles. How dare she think so little of herself? 

Didn’t she know? Didn’t she fucking know she was everything to Shane? She’d been everything to him since that first moment, the first touch, the first text. She was the one he turned to again and again. She was the one he came to at midnight, broken and hurting when he’d shot a man on the job. She was the one he called when he was celebrating a win, even something as stupidly small as when the department softball team went to victory because of him. She was the one he asked for advice, the one he spent hours talking to or sitting in silence with. 

She was everything, goddamn it, and she though all she was good enough for was a quick fuck. 

He’d told her he’d do it right, and he was failing miserably if she still didn’t see.

Back in C block, he found the place quiet. He looked in and found Carl sound asleep, Rick’s hat and Carl’s gun in easy reach. He sprawled with an arm over his head and one hand dangling off the bed, still in his boots. That broke Shane’s heart some more and he scrubbed a tired hand over his eyes and went looking for his daughter. 

He had a daughter. 

Beth had her in the cell with Hershel, all of them sleeping peacefully as well. Shane stared at her tiny face and wondered just how the hell he was supposed to take care of her and everyone else here. He couldn’t take care of anyone who mattered to him, he thought. 

Finally he ducked into their cell. Ace was still asleep, on her side facing the wall. It looked like she’d curled as tight as she could get, made herself as small as possible. Shane took off his boots and lay down with her, running his fingers lightly down her side before dropping his arm around her.

She mumbled something and rolled, unfolding herself from that ball of misery to cuddle against him. He smiled and slid to his back, and she wound all around him in the dark. Her head on his chest, hair going everywhere until he smoothed it down; one leg sliding over his hip and her toes hooking under his knee; her arm dropping across him so her fingers rested on his shoulder and she lay practically on her stomach on top of his chest. He loved the way she reached out in sleep; his woman who wasn't physical but with a few, carefully chosen people losing all inhibitions when he lay beside her. Sometimes Shane thought she was trying to burrow her way into his skin, and he was fine with it.

He closed his eyes and started whispering to her, promises he knew in this fucking nightmare of a world he probably couldn’t keep. 

“I told you half a fucking lifetime ago, sweetheart, you’re worth so much more than you think. You were never anything less than everything, even when my head was up my ass and I couldn’t see it. You got no idea what love is supposed to look like, so I’ll show you. I love you, Ace, so goddamn much, and I promise you this, girl- no one’s going to hurt you again. Not while I’ve got breath in these fucking lungs, you hear me? I love you, Slugger. I’ll prove it, too. You watch. I’ll prove it,” he whispered, lips to her ear. 

Her breathing answered him, slow and steady and peaceful. Shane wrapped his fingers in her hair and fell asleep. 

Shane gripped his steering wheel with both hands, knowing if he let go, he'd do something he probably wouldn't regret. He watched as Malcolm fucking Hall, domestic abusing asshole and wanna be rock star shithead, hauled his guitar case from his fucking van and headed toward the doors to the studio. Like he hadn't hit Ace so damn hard she had his hand print on her cheek. Like he hadn't knocked her into his fucking trailer hitch and given her six stitches in her head and a goddamn concussion.

Shane had been following him from his apartment, where he'd gone the minute Ace slammed her door in his face. He hadn't been able to go home; hadn't been able to shake the sick feeling of fear and failure and dread, and now- 

Now he needed to do something. He had to do something, to help her even if she wouldn't help her damn self. 

Jesus, he was so angry with her. How the hell did she wake up in the hospital and say it was no big deal? How did she call a cab to get home, instead of waiting for him to get back and give her a ride? How the fuck did she look at the paperwork he'd started in her name and tell him he'd overstepped? 

She was his best friend, and Shane loved her, and she needed the help. Didn't she know he'd do anything to keep her safe now that he knew what was going on? 

Malcolm disappeared into the studio and Shane contemplated his van. He could cut the man's breaks. Hell, he wouldn't even have to cut them; just disconnect them. He could tamper with his fuel line pretty easily. He could- 

His phone rang. 

"Yeah?" Shane snapped into it, annoyed at the interruption. 

"Hey, brother. Checking in. How's Ace doing?" Rick sounded tired and concerned, and Shane closed his eyes against the sudden lump in his throat and burning in his eyes.

He scrubbed a hand across them as he sighed, and his hand was shaking. "She, ah. She's home." 

"You with her?" 

Shane laughed, harsh and hard. "No. No, man, I'm not. Because she told me that the bastard who's been knocking her around was fuckin' right, man, and we- she and I- shouldn't be friends anymore." 

Rick was silent. "What? Shane, where are you?" 

"Oh, I fucked up, I guess. I started paperwork on a restraining order and for formal assault charges. I needed her to come to the PD in the morning- this morning, I guess- and finish it up, and she told me I had no right. Slammed the door in my face, Rick, and said we- we're done. What the hell, man? How can- it doesn't make any sense." 

"Jesus, brother," Rick said with a long sigh. "You know better, Shane. You know how domestic violence cases go. If she's not-" 

Shane slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "It's Ace, Rick! Ace. Slugger. The toughest bitch I know." 

"That doesn't mean anything in cases like this," Rick said gently. 

"There are no cases like this," Shane snarled. "Cause this ain't a case, man. It's Slugger." 

There must have been something in his voice, because Rick paused. "Shane. Where are you?" he demanded again. 

Shane hesitated, staring at the van he knew he could fuck up in a way that made Malcolm fucking Hall not only dead, but look like an incompetent bastard as well. Shane could get away with it if he did it right. 

"Brother, don't make me track your phone," Rick said slowly. "Don't do anything you'll regret." 

"I won't," Shane snarled. "That I can promise." 

"Shane. Let the system work. We believe in it. She'll come around, give her some time to think. To process. Then we'll nail his ass to the floor. You can't help her from the inside of a prison cell." 

Shane leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. "Fuck the system. He put his hands on her, Rick. And it- it ain't the first time. He needs to pay." 

"He will. He will. We'll make sure of it; but we have to do it right. Shane. We have to do it right, or you won't be able to take care of her," Rick insisted, voice intense. "Now, you need to go home. I've called Dispatch already and told them you had an emergency and won't make it in. But you have to help me out, brother. Go home, or come here. Please." 

Shane screamed in rage and frustration as he turned the key in the ignition, and cried the whole way to Rick's house.


	57. Lie #57: "We're Getting Drunk" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
drinking  
mentions of past domestic violence/abuse  
mentions of past child abuse

Morning dawned clear and hot, and Shane paced the fence, eyeing the walkers rattling it and checking the locks to make sure everything was secured. Black rage still filled his mind, and the few hours of sleep he’d managed to snatch wrapped around her hadn’t done anything to ease it. He leaned against the wall and stared at the sunrise, searching for some measure of calm before he went in and talked to her or checked on the kids. 

Rick, as far as he knew, was still down in the tombs. Shane would need to deal with that situation as well. 

“All good out here, man?” Daryl asked from the doorway. 

Shane ran a hand over his hair and snorted. "Fences are holdin', if that's what you mean." 

Dixon closed the door to the cell block and leaned against the wall beside Shane. "So." 

"What?" Shane snapped. 

"The hell'd my sister tell ya that's got ya lookin' like that?" 

Shane shot him a look. Daryl shrugged. 

"Shit your dad said. About her, after-" Shane gestured vaguely.

It was Daryl's turn to sigh. "About fuckin' time she let that shit out. You tell her it's bullshit?" 

"You looking to get punched?" Shane snapped. "Of course I did." 

"Good. Maybe she'll fuckin' believe it if it comes from you," Daryl muttered. He tossed his head and started chewing on his thumbnail, and Shane almost batted his hand away from his mouth like he did to Ace all the time. 

"I doubt it," he said instead, figuring if anyone could help him sort this shit out, it was Dixon. "She said she thinks he's right." 

"'Course she does; she's believed it since he said it."

Shane snarled. "I want to kill him." 

"He's already dead. Cancer. Don't take it personal, Walsh." Daryl shot him a look that was almost amused- but mostly not. 

"How the hell am I not supposed to take that personal? She thinks I'm-" 

Daryl shook his head, interrupting Shane's tirade with an impatient look. "Naw, she don't. It ain't about you, it's about her. Look, man- you're sleepin' with her, so I know you've seen the scar. I got 'em; Merle's got 'em. Ain't a thing we like to talk about none, but it is what it is. Merle and I, we took as much of the physical aspect of it as we could." 

Daryl's eyes were hard, meeting Shane's steadily despite the way Shane knew- from her, if nothing else- that talking about that shit was next to impossible for them. Shane nodded once, not showing any of the sympathy he felt for a trio of suffering kids. He figured Daryl wasn't the type to accept sympathy with grace. Dixon let his eyes slide away from Shane's before he continued.

"Thing is, it wasn't the beatin's that were the worst for her. Will fucked her over good before Merle and me even knew it. We was just kids, too, and-" He shrugged and went back to chewing on his thumbnail. "We done our best, well's we could. But she didn't want our fuckin' help. Then she got hooked up with fuckin' Mal-"

"That asshole dead?" Shane interrupted. 

Daryl shrugged. "Most likely. Merle put a hit out on him." 

Shane grimaced. "I should have cut his breaks. Shouldn't have listened to Rick." 

"There's easier ways, man, but yeah. Ya should have." 

Shane flipped Daryl off before rubbing a hand over his head again. "So. Malcolm fucking Hall just added to the problem, didn't he? His fucking chronic cheating. I new that bastard was trouble. Told her over and over-"

"Breathe, Walsh. Ace don't listen to no one and ya know it." Daryl actually sounded amused, and Shane shot him a glare. 

"How the fuck you laughing at me right now? You know what he did to her?" 

Daryl's eyes went hard and serious. "Yeah. Probably better'n you do. I saw her in the hospital. I listened to her fuckin' drugged-up ass ramble about some shit, man. You gotta get her to talk to ya. I ain't telling you jack, so don't ask, ok? Just- get her talkin'. Hell, get her drunk and she'll spill it all." 

Shane snorted. "Yeah, I'd love to. Got any booze handy?" 

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl muttered. "Come on, get ya shit together and get inside. People need a fuckin' leader, and them kids need a parent." 

Shane's eyes were narrowed on Dixon's back as he followed him in, considering what the man had just offered. 

Rick walked in while they were eating breakfast. At least he’d showered, Shane though sourly. But he wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes, he barely looked at the baby, and never actually spoke directly to Carl. Shane tried to get him to talk; tried to get him interested in the shit that needed doing that was on tap for the day. 

Rick dodged the issue and disappeared right back into the tombs, and Shane’s teeth ground together at the look on Carl’s face. Ace eyed the door Rick vanished through and scoffed. She looked better this morning, her smile less brittle and her eyes not quite so haunted, and Shane was glad. 

“Well then. So, Maggie and Glenn are going shopping; Daryl’s going to play mechanic,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Does that mean I get to play with the rest of the spray paint now?” 

Daryl snorted as she turned wide, begging eyes to Shane. “I ain’t playin' mechanic, sis, that’s my goddamn job. I’ll get the generators checked out, make sure we’re in control. Kid, wanna come with?” 

Carl looked confused but nodded. Oscar volunteered to go as well, and Shane eyed the two prisoners he had reluctantly agreed to let sleep in C block. Daryl didn’t have a problem with it, so Shane kept his peace. 

Slugger fidgeted at his side while they talked and Maggie and Glenn discussed where to go for bullets and formula. When the baby started crying and Beth rose to pace with her, Ace watched the girl and Shane watched Ace. 

She smiled at Beth as his daughter quieted down and turned back to Shane. “So.” 

Half the room laughed at her begging tone, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I wanna paint, Dickhead! I need to paint!” 

“Fine! Go nuts. Maggie, Glenn, if you see any, bring my girl back some fun stuff, would you?” He added as Ace did a wiggling happy dance in her chair.

“Will do,” Glenn said easily, eyeing Ace with the same fond amusement Shane himself was. 

Ace leaned over and crushed her lips to Shane’s, and he wound an arm around her and kept her in place when she would have pulled back rapidly. He kept kissing her until she was flushed and breathless and Maggie wolf-whistled from across the room. 

She looked glassy-eyed and dazed when he finally let her go with a lazy smile. “Well then,” she said, and scooped hair back from her face. “That was fun.” 

Shane grinned as he rose and pulled her to her feet. “Go play. I know you’re dying to. Take your gun.” 

She rolled her eyes but headed back to their cell, and Shane grabbed his own gun to walk the perimeter again before going down to check on Rick. 

Daryl Dixon was a fucking miracle worker, Shane decided. 

The redneck had come wandering out to where Shane was watching a completely absorbed Ace make life sized wings on the prison wall and motioned to Shane with a jerk of his head and a gleam in his eyes that worried Shane. Shane glanced toward Ace and told her he’d be back, but she was humming one of her sappy pop songs and Shane’s voice didn’t register. 

It was so normal, such a blast from the world before that Shane was smiling when he reached Daryl. Dixon had a soft expression as he watched his sister and Shane got that completely. 

“What’s up, man?” He asked. 

Daryl motioned him toward the guard tower. “I found something down there. Figured you could bring her up here, be alone.” 

“Don’t think I want you planning that kind of thing for us, Dixon. It’s damn weird,” Shane muttered, shooting him a sideways look. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Daryl said mildly. “Look. I found four bottles of prison brew. It’ll get you both lit and quick so use it sparingly. Here’s the thing though- she’s gonna be pissed tomorrow. I ain’t cleaning that mess up, so you better know what you’re doin’, man.” 

Shane ran a hand over the back of his head. “Shit. Yeah. I’ll leave you out of it.” 

“Damn right. I wasn’t fuckin’ in it.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Carl ok?” 

“Mmm,” Daryl grunted. “Kids a mess but he’s tough. Shot Lori in the head so she wouldn't turn. That’s some heavy shit.” 

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. “I’m going to go talk to him again.” 

Daryl sighed. “Give him some space. Let him know you’re there but talk to him about something’ else. Trust me.” 

Funny thing was, Shane did. “Alright. Thanks again, Dixon.” 

Daryl grunted and waved him off. “Ain’t doin’ it for you. And Walsh-“ 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane said as Daryl eyed him. “I fuck her up, you’ll fuck up my face.” 

He checked in on Carl and the baby, told everyone Daryl was in charge and if anything happened to come get him, and went back for Ace. 

She'd switched to singing something under her breath that involved Spanish and sounded vaguely familiar, accompanying it with salsa steps and dance-floor moves that made him smile and watch for longer than he probably should have. 

God, he loved dancing with that woman, he thought. They'd always moved well together. 

"Hey, Slugger," he said, leaning against the wall beside her and waiting to see if she noticed him. He'd learned years before that touching her when she was in the zone would get him swung at. 

She glanced over at him, grinning as she tossed the spray paint in the air and rattled something off in Spanish with a wink and a shimmy. Shane grinned back, shaking his head and letting her see how much he appreciated the whole thing. 

She shook the can, frowned, and sprayed what Shane was certain were the last three drops of paint onto her tag. She'd only been able to do the outline of said tag, apparently, and she made a face at the can. 

"Motherfucker," she informed it in a completely unconcerned tone. "Guess I'm done. What's up, Dickhead? What do you think? Best I could do with a can and a half." 

Shane reached out and brushed at a smear of white across her eyebrow. "How the hell you get it on you all the time? And it's amazing. Stand between them and you're an angel- not that you aren't one anyway." 

He surprised a laugh from her with that, as well as the eye roll he'd expected. She stepped back and looked critically at the wings, each feather outlined individually in white paint and left unfilled so the grey brick showed through. He looked as well, wondering how many times he'd stood with her like this, admiring while she ran a critical eye over her work. 

This time he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them about her waist and setting his chin on her shoulder. "You're amazing, and so are they." 

She ducked her head with a small smile and shrugged. "Would be better if I had more paint." 

"Yeah, well, I'm working on it," he told her. He kissed her cheek and she sighed again. "Come with me." 

He tugged her hand, leading her toward the guard tower. She laughed when she figured out where they were going. 

"You feeling frisky there, Dickhead? Maggie and Glenn are gonna be pissed at us for taking over their nest." 

Shane snorted. "They'd get over it. Not in the mood for sex, though. Well-" he considered it, then shook his head. "Naw. Not right now." 

"Then what are we doing?" she asked as he lead the way into the tower room. 

True to his word, Dixon had left four bottles of clear brew on the floor. Shane picked one up, opened it, and took a sip. It burned the whole fucking way down and his eyes watered, but he passed it to Ace. 

"We're getting drunk," he said bluntly. 

Her eyebrows shot up and she sniffed the bottle. "Holy fuck. This is- oh, this is toilet brew. Gross, Shane. No way." 

"Come on, Slugger. It's been a shit few days. I gotta- I gotta do something to take the edge off, and I need my drinkin' buddy." He gave her a pleading look, feeling only slightly guilty. He meant all of it- he needed to take the edge off, and he needed her. 

He just wasn't mentioning that it wasn't the alcohol that was going to take the edge off. She melted, like he'd thought she would, when he swiped her hair back from her face. She lifted the bottle to her lips, grimaced, and took a much longer swig than Shane had. 

He watched, impressed, as she swallowed it down without looking like it bugged her one bit. She cocked her head to one side and wrinkled her nose as she passed it back. 

"That is- that is truly foul. Won't take long before we're both wasted. Bet you get lucky even if it wasn't in your plan, Walsh," she added with a wink.

Shane laughed and sipped, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. 

It didn't take long for Shane to realize that even in the CDC, Ace hadn't been truly gone. She'd still had that fine control he always saw, at least until he'd gotten his hands on her and broken her down under him. 

Shane set the bottle aside with a frown, because he was thinking about sex with her a little too hard. Daryl was right; this shit was strong. 

Ace lay on her back, looking up at nothing. She wasn't loopy, but Shane could see how drunk she was in her movements, all languid and relaxed, and in the open, unguarded look on her face. Guilt almost had him laying down silently beside her, because she was going to be so damn pissed off at him when she sobered up. 

But they had to talk. Had to. And this was the only way Shane could come up with to bust down those walls.

"How you doin' down there, Slugger?" he asked. 

She looked over at him and smiled, and caught at his throat and blinded him for a minute. "I'm good, Dickhead. Feel great. Haven't felt this relaxed since the last time I got trashed." 

"Yeah? When was that?" He was genuinely curious, and he wanted to put off the hard shit for just a minute longer. 

What the fuck, he decided, and lay down beside her. She immediately cuddled closer, and Shane started playing with her hair as she slid a hand to rest on his stomach, her fingers moving lightly. 

"Oh, I was probably- twenty one? Twenty two? Barely legal. I got full-on wasted. I mean, puked my guts up, fucked a stranger, karaoke on the bar, got in a fistfight, got thrown out and passed out on the way home drunk." She laughed even as he winced. 

He couldn’t even imagine her like that. Either of her brothers, yes. Not her.

"Daryl and Merle were with me. They got me home, Merle punched the guy I fucked, and I think the cops might have gotten involved? I'm not entirely sure. It was a damn good night. Holy shit, it was twenty-one. It was our birthday, the only one we really bothered to celebrate. Man, I should be less judgy when birthday bitches come into the Lullaby." 

Shane laughed. "Yeah, you hate on them pretty hard. Then again, flaming shots are a pain in the ass to make." 

"Such a pain in the ass. Fun, though. Especially people's expressions. Men in particular- you guys are so damn easy," she said with a laugh, poking him lightly in the side. 

He shifted away from her finger, threading his fingers through hers to keep her from doing that again. "Are we now?" 

"Yep," she told him cheerfully. "Toss a couple bottles, wink and smile, and light alcohol on fire, and you're eating out of my hand. Good tips when I make flaming shots. Better when I make flaming shots and dance behind the bar." 

Shane smiled faintly. "You got the goods, Slugger. Made flaming shots the first night I saw you. You know you caught my eye the minute I stepped out of the damn Jeep? That blue hair, and you were laughing. Stubbed out a cigarette on the logo wall and went inside." 

She looked up at him, her eyes misty. "You remember it that well?" 

He snorted and kissed her, cause her lips were there and he wanted to taste her one more time before he asked the serious questions. "'Course I do. Night my whole damn life changed." 

Her eyes had fallen closed at his kiss, and she had the softest fucking expression he'd ever seen on her face. She cuddled in again and he turned her hand so it was palm-up on his chest, tracing her fingers and the lines of her palm with his own. 

"That feels nice," she mumbled. "I like the way you touch me. Feels good."

That was Shane's opportunity, and he took it even as it made his stomach churn. "Well. It's what you deserve. Had enough of people being rough on you, Ace." 

She sighed dramatically. "God. I can agree with that. Don't know what I did to get you, though. Don't deserve it. Not after I slammed the damn door in your face when you tried to help me." 

"I was wrong. I knew better. All my damn training went out the window," he muttered. "It was- Ace, it was you. My whole fucking heart, bleeding on the ground, and that- that asshole-" 

"Malcolm was an asshole," she agreed with him, and Shane about shit a brick right there. 

He'd have said something, but she kept talking. 

"He hated you, let me tell you. Shit. You wouldn't believe- well, maybe you would." 

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Maybe I would. Slugger, I wanna know about Mal. And I think this time, you're gonna tell me."


	58. Lie #58: "I'm Not As Fucked Up As I Seem" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence
> 
> *** fairly strongly depicted domestic abuse/violence****
> 
> **** rape/dub con as form of domestic abuse/violence***

Toilet brew had you loose and relaxed and well on your way to shitfaced drunk. Shitfaced was somewhere you- and those around you- rarely allowed you to go, and you weren't entirely certain you wanted to be there. You didn't trust you or anyone else when you were, but… 

It was Shane. He'd given you those puppy eyes and you'd started drinking. Now you were snuggled up with him, and he was running his fingertips over your palm while you were talking, and goddamn did it feel nice. 

"You wanna know about Mal?" you said. "Mal was an asshole. He's not worth talking about." 

Shane snorted. "Normally, I'd agree with you, sweetheart. But the thing is, you seem to have some misconceptions that we need to clear up. Only problem is I can't help with that if you don't tell me what all's happened to you." 

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion as you looked up at the line of his jaw. You started to ask why it mattered; to blow it off like you always did. But you opened your mouth and someone else took over, someone way less concerned with things like privacy and keeping your demons to yourself. 

Oh, you remembered why you didn't get drunk now. You were a fuckin' talker, damn it. 

"I don't know that we have enough time to tell you everything that's happened to me, Shane. I've been around awhile. Though, to be fair, you were there for a good chunk of it. I'm just a real good liar." 

Shane's jaw clenched. "Yeah, I know. Slugger, when did he hit you the first time?" 

"Pffft," the bitch currently running your mouth dismissed that. "Before we met. Motherfucker destroyed the painting I was working on, too. Asshole. It was a self-portrait. Got blood all over it. It was Daryl's fault. No, not really. Daryl was just being a good brother."

"Yeah, I get the feeling he does that a lot. Wanna tell me about it?" 

You shrugged. "Not a lot to tell, Dickhead. I was painting. Mal had joined me and Daryl at lunch that day. The only time they saw each other after we started dating, to be honest. Daryl shot me that look, y'know, that he gets when he's gonna be an asshole, and he was. Hated Mal. Mal came home to my place, started yelling, hit me. My nose bled and he gave me a black eye, and got fuckin' blood all over my piece. Asshole," you mumbled. Then you shrugged. "No big deal." 

Shane snorted. "Sure. No big deal. Slugger. How many- how many times you get hurt for me? And how badly?" 

You shoved upright and reached for the toilet wine, hands going slightly unsteady and mind shying away from that question. You so did not want to answer it, but after a sip, you were babbling again. 

"Awww, man, that shit burns," you said with a laugh and a cough. 

Shane had sat up as well and was watching you with guarded eyes. You shrugged, finding yourself answering his question, words practically tripping off your tongue. 

"I fought for you a lot, Shane. You mattered enough for me to take the punishment. Most things didn't, you know? It was too easy to just let go of whatever it was, and move on to something else. Something safe. But the bar mattered, the art mattered, you mattered. Daryl and Merle mattered, but we always fought when we were together, so it was easier to keep them at arm's length," you tapped a finger against your lips. "Huh. I think Daryl saw through my bullshit a little too well and it scared me. I gotta apologize to him again." 

Shane caught your hand as you started to rise to go do that, keeping you in place. "Later, sweetheart. Come on, tell me something real, Ace. You need to." 

You shrugged. "Like what?"

"Like- I don't know, Slugger. Just tell me the truth. Tell me what he did, without minimizing it or taking the blame or glossing over details like you do." 

You took another drink. "Ok." 

You shook your head at the Sharpie phone number still on the back of your hand as you unlocked your apartment door. It'd been two days, many scrubbings, and the thing was faint but it was definitely still there. You were going to give Shane hell about it, you decided. Just for shits and giggles. 

"Hey, babe," you greeted Mal as you closed the door behind you and toed off your shoes. "I take it you found the key ok?" 

"Yeah, I did. You need to go to the grocery store, Ace. There's nothing here," he complained from the open door of your fridge. 

You glanced at the bottle and glass on your counter and grimaced. He was at least one in, then, and he sounded pissed. You dropped your keys and shades on the table, kicked your gear bag under the counter where it lived, and headed into the bedroom to change into something not covered in paint. You didn't get what he was all irritated about. He hadn't seen you in four days, and the first thing he does is complain? Jesus.

"Sorry. I'll go tomorrow," you called over your shoulder. "Add anything you want to the list."

He followed you, leaning in the doorway and watching you change with the glass of vodka in hand. "Fine. Where have you been?" 

"Painting?" you said with a gesture toward you paint-spattered jeans and tank. 

He grunted. "Expected you an hour ago." 

"Yeah, it took longer than I thought. I got this idea, see, to add to it- " 

"Whatever. Wish you'd called or something. I'd have gone to the bar or out with the guys," he cut you off. 

You stepped slowly toward the door, irritated and wanting a drink of your own. "Fine. You can go now." 

His eyes narrowed and he shoved off the doorway. He set the glass down with careful precision and you swallowed hard. "You trying to get rid of me?" 

You stepped over to him, a smile on your lips as your heart rate picked up. "Of course not," you soothed, setting a hand on his chest. "I just want you to have a good evening, and if you'd rather go out, that's fine with me." 

His eyes softened and you let out a sigh when he leaned his forehead to yours. He kissed you and leaned back a little, hand on the back of your head. Confident you'd headed off the argument, you shoved your hair back absently with a smile on your lips as you started to speak. 

"So, what did you want to-" 

His hand on the back of your head turned into a fistful of hair, and he grabbed a hold of your wrist in a flash. His eyes went hot and pissed, and you stopped breathing and started bracing yourself. 

"What the fuck is this?" he asked in a low, deadly voice. 

You eyed the Sharpie on your hand and mentally cursed up a storm. "It, ah. It's a phone number. From a friend." 

"A friend?" Mal spat. "Or a new guy?" 

You sighed. "We met while we were broken up, Mal. We slept together once; now we're just friends. You're friends with women you've slept with; please don't make this a thing." 

"A thing? Don't- don't make it a thing?" He shoved your hand away and sneered, letting go of your hair to pace a step away and run his hands over his face. "Shit, Ace… come on, girl. You know better than this. He just wants to fuck you again." 

"No, he doesn't," you said calmly. You pushed back the headache as you realized this was something you'd fight for. Shane's friendship made you feel good, and you were going to keep it. "Mal, we decided we're going to be friends. I don't have many of those, and I'm keeping him." 

"Oh, you are, are you? So you want to sleep with him again too?" 

"I didn't say-" 

Mal's hand locked brutally your hair again, and he yanked your head back until you were forced to look up into his pissed-off eyes. "You didn't have to. You're mine, Ace. Not this asshole's. Delete the number." 

"I don't belong to you or anyone else, Malcolm," you fired back. Tears were gathering in your eyes as he pulled harder on your hair, but you stood firm. You liked Shane, damn it. You weren't backing down on this one. "I'm not deleting it. We are friends. Deal with it." 

"Deal with it?" he snarled. 

"Yeah," you grunted. "The way I deal with all your female friends. Deal with it." 

"So, you fuck him today? Is that it? That's why you're late, then. He that good of a lay?" Mal sneered. 

You thought about saying yes, just to annoy the living shit out of him, but Mal's fist slammed into your gut and your breath went out of you in a rush. He shoved you back onto your bed and your stomach rolled. You ignored it, forcing your face to relax and your expression to go soft and pleading instead of the rage you wanted to spit at him. You knew the quickest, easiest way out of this, and you resigned yourself to taking it. 

"No, I didn't fuck him today. I haven't even spoken to him today. I don't cheat, Mal. I'm loyal to you, and you know it," you said softly, and reached for him. 

You ran a hand up his leg, hooking your fingers through his belt loop as he stared down at you. 

"You know that," you whispered, holding his eyes. He gulped and nodded. 

"Prove it," he demanded, and pulled you up by the arms to crush his lips to yours. 

You took another drink, the burn washing out the vile aftertaste of the memory. Shane was staring blankly at the wall, something in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. 

You didn't know if it was a shiver of fear or lust, but your mouth wouldn't stop running either way. You knew you shouldn't be talking about this shit. Talking about it did weird things to the people who heard it; made them sad and guilty. You hated it, because you always wanted to fix it for them. 

But you were still talking. 

"Then there was that time he caught me texting you in the middle of the night. He gave me a black eye over that one, and I'm pretty sure I told you I fell asleep while texting and dropped my phone on my face. Usually he was more careful than that, though. He liked to slap, and pull on my hair. Oh! That one night I caught him fucking another girl in my goddamn bed?" You broke off with a roll of your eyes and gestured. "That was a fun night. His bitch threw shit, but when I threatened to call the cops she left. Mal didn't. Not right away. I got glass in my foot, cracked a fucking rib, and sliced my arm when I hit the ground. I thought I was gonna get beat to shit, but when I got cut and climbed right back to my feet he decided I meant it and he left. But I was struggling that night, let me tell you." 

Shane swallowed hard, his eyes closing. "I was on the phone with you that night, Ace." 

"Yeah, I know," you said cheerfully, leaning over and brushing your lips to his cheek. "The only way I got through it without a complete meltdown. You were talking to me about Carl's Little League game while I dug glass out of my foot. Like Die Hard, but better because you and me. And less bloody." 

"Fucking- fuck Bruce Willis," he mumbled, shoving a hand through his hair. "I wish you'd- God. I thought about coming up there even when you told me not to. I should have."

You leaned against his shoulder and sighed. He wrapped an arm around you loosely and you snuggled in closer. 

"Don't worry about it; it wasn't that bad. I mean, I put three stitches in my foot- that's hard, by the way, but alcohol helps- but it didn't even slow me down the next day. I love cuddling with you, Shane. I don't like being touched when I'm not expecting it- thanks, Will, you abusive fucker- but you're never unwelcome. I hope you know that," you said, fiddling with his 22 necklace as he talked. 

His hand stroked lightly over your arm. "Yeah. I've figured that out, but thanks. What else, Slugger? Cause bad as that is, I know that ain't the worst of it. Tell me the worst." 

You stilled, necklace falling from your fingers, and shook your head. "No. Nope. No." 

"Ace." 

You shoved away from him, hands shaking. "No." 

"Goddamn it, Slugger, he put you in the hospital! Tell me how that happened," Shane demanded, shooting you a glare. "I need to know." 

You started laughing while he stared, his jaw working tightly. You shook your head as you got yourself under control, gesturing sharply with one hand. You ordered yourself to shut up, but the booze and, hell, maybe your own tiredness with this dance had you speaking in a coldly clinical voice. 

"You think that's the worst of it? Shane, that was just violence. That was terror and pain, sure, but it was easy. I can take a beating, haven't you noticed? He broke into my apartment," you continued over him when he started to speak. "He had a key made- stole my spare to do it- and I was getting the locks changed the next day. Merle was supposed to be with me. He'd gotten picked up by Atlanta PD, though, and I was alone." 

Shane watched you closely and you cracked a slight smile, one you knew didn't reach your eyes. "He got in. I started to call you, but he scared me and I dropped the phone. He lost his shit when he saw your number. I took a few hits, got in a few of my own- I've told you I can take care of myself- and he stabbed me with glass from my coffee table. I don't exactly know how it ended; I was unconscious. Daryl says the neighbors called the cops. There, now you know. We done?" 

You rose, head starting to ache and the memories starting to weigh on you, and reached for the bottle. 

"Ok," Shane said quietly. "Tell me about the worst." 

You paced away and leaned against the glass, looking over the prison yard. Walkers rattled the fence in a few places, and you took a long, burning drink. The toilet brew was starting to taste good, you thought with a grimace. Time to stop. 

Time to stop your damn mouth, too. 

But you didn't. 

You took one look at Mal's face and knew it was going to be bad. 

Things had been devolving steadily since you'd landed in the hospital, with Mal being more and more demanding, violent, and then tearfully apologetic afterward. You were tired and lonely and miserable; you missed Shane and you couldn't remember what not being bruised and in pain felt like. 

If you would just stop arguing back, you thought numbly. Maybe it would go back to the way it had been, for that month where everything was fine. 

But when you really thought about what you missed, it wasn't Mal treating you with the bare minimum of respect for another human being, or even him being sweet and loving like he was at times. It wasn't Mal at all. He exhausted you too damn much. 

You missed Shane. 

You missed texting him; you missed seeing him; you missed talking to him. You missed the way he made you feel like you mattered. 

Mal never made you feel like you mattered. He did the opposite. 

"What did I do wrong this time?" you asked irritably when he stalked toward you. 

He tossed your phone down on the table, screen lit and open to Shane's messages. You stared at them and curled your hands around your coffee mug, already fighting the urge to cry. 

\--- Hey Ace. Still here. 

He hadn't sent you a message in two weeks, and that was the last thing he'd said. 

"What the hell is this?" Mal demanded. 

You shrugged. "My phone. My messages. How did you get into my phone anyway? I have a passcode." 

"You're predictable," Mal snapped. "I know your code. Why are you still talking to him? You said you were done after he tried to break us up."

That was it. You shoved your coffee cup aside, snatched your phone, and stuffed it into your pocket. "I didn't say any such thing. I said he and I were done after you put me in the fucking hospital, you asshole. And if you were reading, you'd notice I haven't been talking to him. He's been talking to me." 

Mal's hand swung out and you dodged the slap, but that just pissed him off more. "Come here," he snarled. 

"No," you said in the most bored voice you could come up with. "We're done, Mal. Get your shit and leave." 

You rose and turned away from him, heading into your kitchen to put your coffee cup in the sink. You yelped when a hand closed on your arm with bruising force and yanked you back. You reacted, chucking the mug at Mal's head. 

He dodged it, but he let you go, and you glared at him. "Get out. I'll mail you your shit." 

"No," he said softly. His eyes were hard and dangerous, his sneer cruel. "No. I told you before, Ace, we're done when I say so. And I don't think we are yet. " 

"You're a possessive, cheating, abusive shithead," you told him clearly and distinctly. "And I'm tired of it. You know what? Shane's right. I deserve better than you, you absolute fucking piece of shit. Now get out of my apartment before I call the cops." 

Mal laughed and stepped toward you, and you backed up automatically. He crowded you into the table, pinning you against it. "What the fuck did you say to me?" 

"I said-" 

He grabbed your hair and pulled, cutting you off as you gasped. "You think- you think you deserve better than me? I give you everything!" 

He pulled you by the hair and you had to either go with it or let him rip the strands from your head. You went with it, even as you wanted to swing at him, because what choice did you have? 

He knotted his free hand into the front of your shirt, hauling you close so he could whisper in your ear. "You don't deserve shit, you lying whore." 

He tossed you away from him and you fell to the floor, all the air leaving you in a rush. You scrambled back, trying to get to your feet, but he knelt over you with a knee on your chest. 

"I'm not a whore, and I don't lie," you gasped out, glaring at him as he leaned harder and cut off your air. 

He chuckled and ran a hand over his face. "Oh, Ace. You got pregnant at seventeen. You slept with your cop friend the first time he said hello to you. You flirt with every dick in the bar, and quite a few of the tits, all for money. You're a whore, my dear." 

You managed to get a hand up and hit him in the junk. It wasn't hard, but he yelped and got off you, and you curled onto your side and tried to breathe. "You know what? Fuck you, Mal. You're a serial cheater and you'd sleep with anyone your producer told you to if you thought it'd get you ahead." 

Mal kicked you in the stomach, hard. You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks at the pain, and you squeezed your eyes closed as he yelled at you. 

"You're such a bitch, Ace! You think someone else will treat you good as I do? You think anyone else would keep coming back to you? You're ugly and broken. That scar on your back, the fuckin' crazy hair. Who do you think wants that? And that doesn't even touch on the other shit." 

You managed to get on your knees, and he grabbed your hair again, yanking your head back. You glared through the way your vision swam and blurred with the water in your eyes and the pain, trying to block out his voice. 

He could get to you like no one else, and if you listened, he'd break your resolve that you were done. He somehow always managed to convince you that even this was better than being alone. 

But not this time.

He leaned down and slammed his fist into your stomach again. "It doesn't matter if I hit you there, does it? It doesn't matter, cause you're already broken. Such a whore you got knocked up, and then so fucked up you lost it and the chance for more. So fucked up in the head because of it and your daddy, you can't have a normal relationship to save your life. You're a lying, cheating, broken whore, and who the fuck do you think is ever going to love you but me?" 

He knelt in front of you as you closed your eyes and shook your head against his ruthless grip on your hair. He ran his free hand gently down your cheek, down your throat, and hooked his fingers in your shirt, giving it a tug. 

"Shane will never love you," he whispered in your ear. "He decided after one night you weren't good enough, didn't he? And the others you dated- I know about them. Paul, Andrew- one night stands. Harley, two dates and gone. Simon made it three, but one fuck and he was done. But I'm still here. I come back, Ace. Every time." 

You shook your head, trying to deny it. But you couldn't. Aside from Mark in high school, Mal was the only one who stayed with you for more than a night or two. 

Will had been right all along. You were only worth a quick fuck. 

Mal's hand slid into your shirt and closed over your breast as he pressed kisses to your neck. You fought back the rising nausea, knowing there was only one way out of this safely. If you went along with Mal right now, he'd leave after. If you didn't, if you told him to get his hands off you and get out, you'd just be heaping more pain onto yourself before the inevitable. 

If a quick fuck was all you were worth, that was fine. You'd never liked sex anyway. You'd provide one last quick fuck for him and then settle down into a life alone with your fucking paint. You might only be worth sex to a man, but you were worth more than that to yourself. 

It was time you remembered that, you thought grimly. 

Mal kissed his way around to your lips and you let him, and not stopping him but not helping anything along either. You'd put up with it, but you weren't going to make it easy on him. He tugged your shirt over your head, unbuckled his pants, and stood over you, sliding his hand into your hair again as he looked down into your eyes. 

"Say it," he commanded, his grip tightening. "Say I'm the only one who'll ever love you."

You licked your lips and smiled, and even you couldn't tell it was fake. "You're the only one who'll ever love me," you said obediently, and went with his hand as he pushed your head down. 

"Fucking hell. That's enough, Ace. Jesus Christ," Shane said, voice rough and shaky.

You turned from the window and looked at him. He was pale, eyes closed and jaw tight. You shrugged and took another drink. "You wanted to know what the worst was. That was it. I let Mal fuck me after he told me no one would ever love me but him, because I'm broken. By the look on your face, he was right, too. Not that it matters. I told you a long time ago I'm not made for love." 

"Shut the hell up right now," Shane snapped. "Just- Jesus. You're drunk. So'm I. We're done with this conversation, ok? I gotta- " 

He climbed to his feet and shoved his hand through his short hair, looking anywhere but at you. Your lips twisted and you lifted the bottle again, frowning when you saw it was empty. 

"Yeah. I'm not surprised. Well, it was good while it lasted, Dickhead. Best days of my life. Hope we're still friends, at least," you muttered, turning away and clinging to the numbness of a good solid drunk. 

Shane's hand was gentle on your face, and you closed your eyes when he applied just enough pressure to turn your chin toward him. You didn't want him to see what this conversation was going to cost you, and you didn't want to see the disgust you knew would be in his face. 

His lips slid over yours, soft and gentle and tasting vaguely of salty tears. 

"Shut up, Slugger. I've gotta wrap my head around that shit, is all. It's some heavy stuff, sweetheart. Give me a few hours, sleep some of this off, and we'll talk some more. Of course we're still friends. But we're more than that and you know it. I needed to know, Ace," he said firmly. He kissed your cheeks, ghosted another across your forehead, and slid his thumb over your lower lip as you tried not to sob at his touch.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, biting your lip as hope coiled in you that maybe he wasn't done with you after all. "I'm not as fucked up as it seems." 

"Yeah, you are," he said with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. "It's ok to have problems. I already told you, I'm here. No matter what, I'm here. Come on, you need some rest. And some water." 

He held your hand all the way into the cell block, tucked you into bed with his flannel around your shoulders, and kissed you again before he left, all while you were lost in utter confusion. He should have been done with you, like Mal said. You were broken and worthless, and he knew just how badly now. He should be running away screaming. 

You fell asleep wondering why the hell he wasn't.


	59. Lie #59: "Bad Cop's Usually My Take" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
past domestic violence/abuse  
past rape/non con/ dub con

Shane's hands shook worse than they had when he'd found her on the ground, bleeding outside the Lullaby. He didn't look anyone in the eyes as he stalked out of the prison and back into the sunlight. He glanced up at the sky and scoffed, surprised to find that the sun hadn't moved all that much while Ace was busy ripping Shane's world apart at the seams. 

Maggie and Glenn were still gone, but he wasn't worried yet. They'd had a couple places in mind to hit and a bit of a massive shopping list, so he wouldn't start worrying until it was significantly closer to dark. 

Rick was down in the tombs still, if what he'd barely registered of Hershel's report was any indication. Apparently Rick was now receiving phone calls. On a phone that wasn't plugged into anything. 

Shane had listened, grunted, and walked away, completely incapable of dealing with Rick's trauma at the moment. Axel had called his name, but Shane had blown right by him and headed toward the door. As he wrenched it open, he heard Daryl's voice announcing that Shane was going to need a few minutes. 

That was a massive fucking understatement if Shane had ever heard one, he thought viciously. Shane was going to need a whole goddamn century. 

Death wasn't good enough for that bastard. That abusive, rapist fuck had- had- 

Shane's eyes closed and he sank back against the guard tower wall. He couldn't even think the words, but the picture she'd painted, first in a casual tone like she was talking about the weather and then in a clinical, cold voice- that was seared into his brain. Into his heart, his retinas, into every fiber of his being, goddamn it. 

Shane's shoulders jerked as tears slid from his eyes, and he certainly wasn't ashamed of it. 

Every time, he thought dully. Every time he thought he'd understood how utterly he'd failed- as her friend, as a cop, as a person- he was reminded that he didn't know jack shit. He'd Sharpied his number on her hand, and two days later she'd been slapped around and decided coming on to the guy was the best of her options. He'd texted her in the middle of the night and gotten her punched. He'd been on the goddamn phone with her, hearing the catch of pain in her voice, and he'd ignored all the warning bells and didn't pry. 

He could have helped her then. 

He should have killed Mal after the Lullaby. 

Shane tried not to think about the last story she'd told him, the one she hadn't even finished. He'd known where it was going and been too goddamn sick to his stomach to listen; and even thinking about it right now he thought he might hurl. 

She'd chosen to take a rape, instead of taking a beating, so she could get away. And she'd still taken the beating, a few days later. She'd had his number up on her phone, to call him for fucking help, and that bastard had seen it and damn near killed her over it. 

Shane lost the battle and puked what little was in his stomach up, including burning toilet brew that sure as shit didn't taste any better the second time around. 

She'd been about to describe that shit in her detached, cold voice. Like it had happened to someone else; not to her. Not his Slugger, the woman he loved with every bit of his heart. She'd been talking about that bastard pulling her down to blow him after he'd hit her, hurt her, and Shane had known from the tilt of her head and the set of her shoulder that that only would have been the beginning. 

He'd chickened out; couldn't handle it. She'd fucking lived through it, and never breathed a word. She could live with it in the back of her mind every damn day and still be her, his amazing Ace, and Shane hadn't even been able to listen to it.

He should have been there. 

It didn't matter that Shane had been at Rick's side in the hospital or working himself to oblivion pulling extra shifts or taking care of Carl and Lori. Shane should have reached out to her again. Maybe if he'd sent that message, the one still typed in his phone (which he'd finally lost somewhere in the middle of winter), she'd have gotten it and come to him. 

Shane had no doubt in his mind- especially now- that no matter what, if he'd sent that text, she'd have dropped everything and run to King County Hospital to be at his side. And if she'd been there, where she was supposed to be, Malcolm fucking Hall couldn't have- 

Shane turned around and slammed his fist into the brick of the guard tower, welcoming the pain that lanced through his knuckles and up his arm to his elbow. He leaned his forehead against the brick and thought about doing it again, and again and again, but one thought stopped him. 

She might not care about blood on his knuckles and violence in his soul, but he did. Oh, God, he did, and he swore right there he'd be a better man for her. One she deserved, with hands that weren't torn and battered, hands that touched her and everything else in the world gently. She deserved to never have to wonder, for a minute, if he could hit her as easily as he could hit someone else. 

It didn't matter that he'd never touch her in anger. Shane wasn't that kind of man before, and certainly wouldn't become that kind of man now. She didn't know that. She had no reason to trust that; not when the men in her life had done to her the things they'd done. 

Not when she'd suffered because of him, even if he hadn't been the one hurting her. 

"Shane?" Rick's voice was worried and had Shane's head snapping off the brick to look at his partner with wide eyes. 

Rick looked a hell of a lot better than he had in the tombs, and more clear and present than he had at breakfast that morning. Shane felt something cautiously like hope stir, and tried to crush it before it went to far. 

"Hey, man," Shane said, rubbing his bloodied and already swelling hand over the back of his head. "You look better." 

"Thanks. You look like shit. And you smell like booze," Rick said, squinting at him. "What's goin' on?" 

Shane's jaw tightened hard enough he was afraid he'd crack a tooth. "Had to have a talk with Ace, man. Daryl found some- hell, Ace called it toilet brew. She got plastered; I got tipsy. I cracked the vault. I almost wish I hadn't." 

Rick blinked at him a couple times and reached for his shoulder. "Brother, I'm gonna say this again. You're a damn mess when it comes to that woman. She's gonna kill you when she sobers up, and I'm gonna watch." 

"Fuck you too, Rick," Shane muttered, glancing away toward the woods, but he was smiling slightly. "Rick, it was-" 

He cut off and frowned out at the trees, where something moved differently from the dead shambling around the fence. He stared harder, trying to decide if that really was what it looked like. 

“Is that- Rick, is that person alive?” He asked, gesturing. 

Rick’s head shot up, following Shane’s pointing finger, and he grunted. “Come on.” 

Shane pulled his knife and his gun and followed Rick to the gates, where sure enough, it was a real, living woman. She watched them silently until the walkers noticed her, and she dropped the basket she was carrying and pulled the sword from her back. 

Shane waited for Rick’s signal, but Rick kept watching with guarded eyes. The woman limped as she moved, taking out a couple of the walkers, and Shane was impressed. 

Then her eyes rolled back in her head and Carl came running up out of nowhere. 

“Dad! Uncle Shane! We have to help her!” He yelled, already pulling the gate open. Shane added his weight to the kid’s and followed Rick out, heading to the basket the woman had dropped and stabbing out at the dead fuck who got to close. 

He remembered his promises from moments before and tried not to think about more blood on his hands as he scooped up a basket with diapers and formula and followed Rick back toward the prison. 

Something, he thought grimly, had just gone horribly wrong. As usual. 

She had a gunshot in her thigh, and Rick snapped orders like the leader he was. Shane was grateful, because he sure as hell wasn’t fit to handle things right now. He was still shaken and enraged and frankly, a little tipsy. 

He was in the mood to be killing things, not trying to patch up bullet holes. 

Shane grimaced as he kicked her sword out of reach, wondering when he’d become so violent and how long it would take to break the damn habit. His knuckles throbbed as he flexed and clenched his fist, not even listening as Rick started talking to the woman. 

Dixon called for them, and something in the tone of Ace’s brother’s voice drew him out of the darkness in his head. Daryl had a tiny, smug smile on his lips, and he dismissed the new woman as unimportant with a jerk of his head toward the cell block. 

“Come on. You’re gonna wanna see this.” 

Shane shoved off the table and followed him, wondering what could have the redneck’s eyes dancing like that- like Ace’s when she was about to do something particularly crazy. Rick fell in beside him, locking the door to the cells with their mystery woman on the other side. 

“She has formula,” Rick said softly. 

Shane grunted. “Maggie and Glenn ain’t back yet. Are you?”

Rick made a face. “Shit. I hope so. How’s our daughter?” 

“Would you two shelve ya domestic partnership shit and take a look at what I found?” Daryl said, but his tone held lazy satisfaction instead of irritation. 

Shane rolled his eyes and stepped up to the cell Daryl leaned against. “Yeah, yeah, whatever man- holy shit.” 

Carol laughed and rose, and Shane stared at her as he ran a hand over the back of his head. She hugged Rick and then him, her smile huge, and Shane shook his head wordlessly as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“How did- how?” Rick managed, clearly as much at a loss as Shane. 

“Poor thing fought her way into isolation. Must’ve passed out from dehydration,” Daryl said, running a hand down Carol’s arm. 

“I can’t believe it,” Shane said, and hugged her again. “I can’t believe it.” 

“Where the hell’s Ace? She’s gonna want- oh, shit. Damn Walsh, ya work fast,” Daryl muttered the last bit, shooting Shane a look as Ace came scowling into the common area, looking pale and clammy and generally like shit. 

“What the fuck is all this-“ She froze, staring, and her lips moved soundlessly, mouthing Carol’s name. 

Carol sniffed and pushed past Shane to hug Ace, and he watched Ace stiffen and relax before hugging back just as tightly. Ace pushed Carol back to arms length to stare at her. 

“How- you- oh my god,” she said, eyes still wide. “You’re alive. I thought- we found your scarf.” 

Carol nodded. “I’m ok. Got cut off before I reached the doors. Fought my way to a cell in isolation, and that’s where Daryl found me.” 

Ace closed her eyes and started sobbing. Shane ached to go to her, but he’d caught the look she shot him before she registered Carol. Woman was pissed as hell at him, and he didn't think she'd want him touching her right now. Besides, their mystery guest was watching. 

Shane headed toward the common area while Daryl went over and pulled Ace in so she could sob on his shoulder, muttering about her blubbering on him all the damn time. 

"We can treat that," Shane told the woman, nodding at her leg. "You're safe in here. Got walls and food." 

"I didn't ask for your help," she said, watching him warily as he unlocked the door and slid through. 

Shane shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You can't leave." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and tossing her head. "Sounds familiar." 

"Why were you carrying formula?" Shane asked, filing that tidbit away for later. 

He heard the door creak open behind him, but he didn't turn. It'd be Rick or Daryl, and either one was welcome backup. 

"The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy and a pretty girl," she answered. He might not have looked, but she did, and Shane could appreciate the assessment in her look as she did.

Shane's fist clenched at her words. "What happened?" 

"Were they attacked?" Hershel's voice accompanied the click of his crutches, and Shane glanced over his shoulder to see most of their people crowded into the doorway. Daryl had an arm around Ace's shoulders still, and she watched with wary, pinched eyes. 

Slugger probably had one hell of a headache, he thought, and forced his focus back to the woman. Maggie and Glenn were in trouble. 

"They were taken," she said slowly, eyes flickering from one to another of their group. "By the same son of a bitch who shot me." 

Rick strode up, brushed passed Shane, and grabbed at the woman's leg, his thumb pressing into the gunshot. "These are our people. Tell us what happened, now!" 

"Don't you ever touch me again!" she yelled, jumping to her feet and glaring out at them. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Rick," Ace snapped from the cell doors. "What the actual fuck? She was answering! For shit's sake." 

"I gotta agree with Ace on this one, brother," Shane muttered, shooting Rick a look. "Wanna reel it back a little there? Or at least let me know I'm supposed to be the good cop before we go in, since bad cop's usually my take." 

Rick didn't crack a smile. "Where are Maggie and Glenn?" 

She glared and didn't bother to speak, and Shane sighed. 

"Look, you brought the formula. You came here. Why?" he asked. 

She looked away, then glanced back at Rick and Shane. "There's a town. Woodbury. About 75 survivors. I think they were taken there." 

"A whole town?" Rick asked, incredulous. 

The woman didn't look toward Rick, keeping her eyes on Shane, but she nodded. "Run by this guy who calls himself the Governor. Pretty boy, charming. Real Jim Jones type." 

Shane groaned and rubbed at his eyes. Perfect. That was exactly what they needed in next door neighbors. For shit's sake, when were they going to catch a break?

"He got muscle?" Daryl asked. 

"Paramilitary wannabes," she said with a jerk of her shoulder. "They have armed sentries on every wall. Place is secure." 

Rick and Shane glanced at each other and Rick tilted his head, faint smile on his lips. "You know a way in?" 

She smiled slightly and gave the faintest of shrugs.

"This is Maggie and Glenn, why are we even debating?" Beth asked, eyes wide. 

"We ain't. I'll go after them," Daryl said with a shrug. 

Rick sighed. "This place seems pretty secure. You can't go alone." 

"I'll go," Shane offered before Beth could volunteer herself like he knew she would. Beth was a damn good kid, but she wasn't going to be any help on a mission like that. 

Axel and Oscar volunteered as well, and Shane worried for a minute that Ace's voice would join theirs. When it didn't, he and Rick looked at each other. Rick nodded slightly, and Shane nodded back. 

"Alright, let's get shit gathered," he muttered, shoving off the wall. Ace's eyes followed him as he headed toward their cell.


	60. Lie #60: "I Don't Know Which Is Worse" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
past rape/non con  
past domestic abuse  
past child abuse

You knew when you’d been manipulated. Shane had deliberately gotten you drunk, you realized when you woke up with a massive headache and unfortunately crystal clear memories of your conversation. 

You’d never meant to tell him that shit, goddamn it. And he’d tricked it out of you. 

Motherfucker was going to be sorry, you decided grimly. Just as soon as he and others got back from rescuing Maggie and Glenn. 

You were worried. When Daryl and Shane both volunteered to go, your hands started to shake. God, you wanted to go with them; to make sure they'd come back in one piece. 

But someone had to hold down the fort and from the look in Ricks eyes, he was going on the rescue mission as well. So you kept our mouth shut and tried not to worry too much. 

You followed Daryl when your little knot of people broke up. “Hey.” 

He glanced at you as he checked his gun over and tucked it away. “Hey. Ya aight?” 

“My head aches like a sonnuva bitch and I’m pissed as hell. Were you in on that?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you leaned in the door of his cell. 

He checked the edge on his knife and grunted as he shoved it back into his sheath. “Found the wine. Agreed with him ya needed to talk.” 

“Neither if you assholes had the right-“ 

“Don’t be a bitch, sis,” he interrupted with a jerk of his chin. “Would ya have told him otherwise?” 

“Of course not!” You snapped. “That’s the fucking point! I didn’t want to tell him!” 

Daryl nodded. “I know. But ya needed to. He’s gonna fuck up enough if he has all the info, Ace. Don’t need to make it harder on him.” 

Ok, shit, that hit a little too close to home and sounded a little too goddamn reasonable. Your eyes dropped to the floor. “Why you care anyway? You don’t like him.” 

“Never said that." 

He swung his crossbow over his back and stepped in front of you. You met his eyes, biting at your thumb absently. He gave you a tiny smile, but his eyes looked haunted. 

“Shane’s decent enough, and a damn sight better’n fuckin' Malcolm Hall.” 

You rolled your eyes but he kept talking. 

“He cares a whole damn lot. That means somethin'. The shit ya been through? It’d have broken someone else. It didn't break you, but ya all closed off and shit- and no I ain't sayin' I'm any better, so shut it, ok? Ya gotta- ya gotta trust him that he wants what’s best for ya, sis. Or ya don’t have any business fuckin’ him.” 

“Jesus, Daryl,” you muttered. 

He jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “Just the truth. Especially when it comes to the sex stuff, he needed to fuckin' know. Like that time before ya called me. It's a big damn deal even if ya don't want it to be. Don’t set him up to fail.” 

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, and you sighed. 

“Be safe?” you made it a question, but it was more of an order. 

He nodded. “Always. I'll be back.”

"Yeah, yeah, to annoy me more," you muttered, covering your real worry that if he kept leaving, he wouldn't come back one of these days. 

He started out toward the common area when it hit you. It wasn't like you'd ever talked about things with Daryl, either. So how did he-

“Dar,” you called and he turned, eyebrow raised. “How the hell do you know about that shit? Like that last time-” 

He snorted. “Ya was high as a fuckin’ kite in the hospital. I learned some crap. Straighten shit out with ya cop before we leave. Love ya.” 

You grimaced, but nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” 

You made your way to your cell, wishing like hell you had coffee and painkillers because if you’d thought you were hungover at the CDC, toilet brew and an hour's nap had left you with a whole new level of hell. Shane was pulling on a dark t shirt and looked like he felt like shit too, and the petty part of you firmly declared good riddance. 

You leaned on the wall and glared at him until he took a deep, careful breath and looked at you. His grip on the shirt in his hands was so damn tight you could see white in his knuckles, even the bloodied and swollen ones. 

You didn’t meet his eyes for long, cause you didn’t want to see pity or disgust or any of the thousands of other emotions that were just too fucking hard to deal with in them. You jerked you chin toward his hand instead. “Problems?” 

He snorted. “Wall got on my nerves.” 

“That’s healthy. You break anything?” 

“Naw, the wall’s fine,” he muttered, and you rolled your eyes. 

Silence fell and you wrapped your arms around yourself and tipped your head back against the wall. Coffee, six painkillers, and an English muffin with pepper jack cheese- That’s what you wanted, damn it. And for the ice pick to be removed from your temple. 

“I’m pissed at you,” you told him, rubbing at your forehead. 

He sighed. “I know.” 

You looked at him from the corner of your eye and he shifted unhappily. He set down the shirt in his hands and turned to look at you, so you cut your eyes away again, twisting your mom's ring on your finger to give yourself something to fucking do with your hands. He ran a hand through his hair and jerked his shoulders like he wanted to pace. 

“Why won’t you look at me, Slugger?” His voice was so frustrated and pained you felt yourself tearing up immediately. 

Damn it. This was why you kept your shit to yourself. Because other people's emotions were just too fucking hard when it was so personal. Because you hated the thought of Shane thinking you were damaged or broken or disgusting. Because- because you hated who Mal had turned you into, and you didn't want Shane to hate any part of you. He mattered too damn much. He was too damn important. 

Hell, he was everything.

You closed your eyes and let your hair fall in a curtain between you and him as you looked at the floor. “Because I’m ashamed, and I don’t want to see you look at me differently now that you know,” you whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t want you to know because I- I didn’t want you to-“ 

His hands were gentle and insistent, tugging you into his chest. You felt the shuddering sob start as his scent surrounded you and his hands ran soft and soothing over your hair and your back, and you gripped his shirt as you tried to keep from weeping. ”I don’t want to lose this, Shane, and I- I did some- some messed up shit for Mal, and-“

“Stop,” he snapped. “Just… stop. Ace. Slugger. Sweetheart, how could you think you’d lose this?” 

You shook your head, unable to voice why you were convinced he'd be done with you when he learned about the things you'd done. When he learned who you really were. 

His hand moved through your hair as he held you, working tangles out gently, and you thought about how bruising, ripping fists felt in it instead. Shane was nothing like Mal, you thought. He deserved someone better. Someone who didn't cave and crawl on her knees- sometimes literally- to appease a man who didn't know the difference between love and fear.

Shane’s lips brushed your ear as he whispered to you. “Slugger, you’re the toughest bitch I know.” 

You snorted out a laugh, surprised by the words and your reaction to them, and you held onto him a little tighter as he chuckled too. God, you needed him. You needed this so much, and you couldn't handle it if what you had was damaged. “I don’t want you to hate me, Shane. Or look at me like I’m broken. I don’t know which is worse.” 

“Why the fuck would I hate you?” He demanded, pushing you back so he could hold your face in his hands and look you in the eyes. “And what the hell broken bullshit are you talking about? Ace. Listen to me, please. You did nothing wrong. You did what you had to to survive. I don’t hate you for that, honey, I- I admire the hell out of you for that strength. I hate that fucking rapist, abusive bastard. Not you.” 

He had that look in his eyes again, grim and cold and ugly, and shiver of fear ran down your spine for Malcolm. Then you remembered he was dead in Atlanta and the fear turned into the warmth that Shane’s fierce protection always sparked. 

His thumbs swept your cheeks and he sighed, leaning his forehead to yours. “Slugger. You don’t- I’ll never forgive myself for not fucking seeing.” 

His voice cracked, but he kept going. “I’m not trying for you to tell me it’s ok, so don’t start that people-pleasing bullshit. I- I just- you’re my best friend. And knowing you were going through all that right under my fucking nose, I- I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.” 

“Shane,” you whispered when you could swallow past the lump in your throat. 

He shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t. I mean it. It’s not your responsibility to make everything roses just so I don’t feel guilty, ok? I just wanted you to know. And,” he lifted his forehead from yours and pressed his lips to it instead. “I’m sorry for tricking you into it. But I had to know, sweetheart.” 

You frowned, but sighed when he shot you that look, eyebrows up like he knew you knew he was right. And damn it, he was. 

“I wouldn’t have told you otherwise,” you admitted. Maybe, you thought. Maybe it'd be ok. Maybe it wouldn't change anything. His fingers twinned into yours as you half-smiled at him. “I, ah- that wasn’t-“ 

He snorted. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t everything. You were with him for years. Long as we can talk about it when we need to, it don’t have to be some big deal marathon thing.” 

You nodded, relieved. Emotions were such crap, and you didn't know that you could handle dredging up everything from yours and Mal's history in one go. Hell, it would take a long-ass time, too, and you knew he needed to go. Maggie and Glenn needed him. You forced aside the fear that he'd change his mind if he had too long to think about what you'd said, and tried for a smile. “Be careful out there, Dickhead. I need you back in one piece.” 

He leaned in and kissed you, and you clung to him. 

“I just need you,” he whispered, lips against the pulse in your neck. “I’ll be fine. I promise. And I’ll watch your damn brother's reckless ass.” 

You swallowed hard again and nodded, mouth dry at the way 'I just need you' sounded. You tried to think if you'd ever heard the words 'I love you' sound quite that way, and you honestly didn't think so. You were trying to find something to say back, some way to tell him without having to take that plunge, but words failed you. You settled for leaning in and kissing him again, lingering and light and hopefully saying what you couldn't yet. He sighed into it, hand warm on your cheek again.

Then he was gone.

Daryl was asleep in the chair at your side, his feet propped up on the corner of your bed. You knew you should be sleeping as well, especially since it was somewhere around two am and that's when normal people slept, right? Except you'd always had a fucked up sleep schedule and landing in the fucking hospital wasn't helping.

You missed your bar already. 

You'd been in this damn room for four days and you were going fucking nuts. Granted, you'd spent the first two knocked out on painkillers and shit, but now you were ready to claw your way out of your skin and rip the goddamn IV from your arm. Merle had brought over your sketchbook, and you took it up restlessly now. You clicked one of the lights over your head on, angling it away from Daryl so it wouldn't shine in his eyes. 

You looked your brother over as you flipped to a clean page and tapped your pencil absently against your lip. He could not be comfortable sleeping tipped back in a damn chair, but what the hell did you know? He hadn't left yet, even when you'd snapped irritably at him that you weren't teenagers anymore and his constant presence was not required. 

You'd felt like a total bitch, bringing the night of your miscarriage to his mind as well as your own, but neither of you said anything about it. You'd never really talked about it, and you sure as hell didn't want to right now. 

Daryl let out a snore that had you wrinkling your nose. 

You shifted, trying to ease some of the throbbing in your side, and grimaced as that turned it from dull ache to screaming goddamn agony. You gave up on comfort and went back to studying Daryl, trying to decide where to start sketching him. 

After a couple of restless lines, you gave up. 

Your whole goddamn face hurt, and you knew from the tightness of one eye that it was still not going to open all the way for days. You knew your lip was split, too, and you figured there was another bruise or two on your jawline. It wasn't like you'd been overburdened with vanity before now, but you were starting to wonder if you looked as fucking bad as you felt. 

You reached for Daryl's cell phone, charging on the table beside you. Yours had gone missing from your apartment, and it's not like you were exactly sure where it had ended up after Mal had chucked it at your head. 

You winced away from that memory- Mal's voice screaming about 'fucking Shane, always Shane, should have known you'd go running back to fucking him behind my back, you lying slut; spread it for everyone behind my back don't you?' echoed painfully in your ears- and pulled up the camera on Daryl's phone. 

You looked at yourself and immediately wished you hadn't. "Jesus fucking Christ," you mumbled. 

You looked worse than you thought. 

You put his phone back down, blew out a breath, and took your sketchbook back up. You tried to put the mangled up thing that was your face out of your mind and draw Daryl, but you just weren't into it. 

You flipped to a new page and let your hand do whatever it wanted while you thought about shit. How the hell had it gotten that bad? How the hell had you taken him back after he'd knocked you cold out? 

You'd been done with him before then. And yet… 

And yet you'd driven away your best friend in the world when all he did was try to help. 

You missed Shane so damn much, you thought now, eyes filling. You dashed the tears away, too damn rough on your bruised face, and hissed in pain. "Goddamn it." 

"Sis? Ya aight?" 

You glanced over at Daryl and sniffed, trying to find a smile. "Aside from the obvious? No, not really. I'm a fucking idiot, Daryl. Shane tried to help and I told him I didn't need it and now look where I am. What's wrong with me?" 

Daryl slid from his chair to perch on the side of your bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned against him and he reached down, picking up your sketchbook to study what you'd done.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with ya, Ace. It’s all him. Fuckin dead bastard who did this to ya. Him and Will, cause god knows our daddy fucked us up too,” Daryl said slowly. He nodded at the sketch in his hands. Shane smirked out of the page at you, a Valhalla mug in his hand and amused fondness in his eyes. ”This ya cop?” 

You nodded. 

Daryl handed the sketchbook back and kissed your cheek. “Ya know his number? Call him. Imma head home for a bit. See ya in the mornin’, aight? I’ll bring ya some more shit.” 

He set his phone in your hand and left. 

You dialed Shane’s number six times and never pressed send.


	61. Lie #61: "This Is A Fuckin' Great Idea" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
past emotional abuse  
past domestic violence/abuse

You puttered around the cell block, doing odd chores and generally helping make sure the place was tidy. You suddenly realized how much Carol had been simply handling without saying anything to you. You noticed the floors in the cells had a nice layer of dirt, gravel, and streaks of dried blood all over them, and you had no idea where either a broom or a mop might be found. 

But you knew someone had been handling the floors, because they weren't like that all the time. 

Carol was feeding the baby and laughed when you asked where you could find those things. She told you, and smiled shyly when you heaped praise on her for just handling all the routine shit that no one else thought about. 

After you did the floors, you checked the state of the bathrooms, which wasn't much better. So you went looking for something to scrub the johns. 

Anything to keep moving; to keep from worrying about Shane and Daryl and Rick and Maggie and Glenn. 

It didn't fucking work, but you had a sparkling clean bathroom and very little cleaning solution left over. Oops. You chewed on your thumb and went looking for a pen to put bathroom cleaning supplies on the supply run list.

A prison had to have pens and paper somewhere, right? 

You struck fucking gold in the administrative offices, and spent a pleasant couple of hours sorting through empty notebooks, finding working writing implements, and doing a quick list of what all was in there that might be useful later. 

Then you went to check on the others, and maybe find a place to sketch. 

The kids and Carol were fine, and she sent you off with a grin when she saw the notebook in your hand, the pencil behind your ear, and the pens holding your hair in a bun. 

You ended up on the guard tower in the setting sunlight, sitting with the notebook on your knees and drawing- big surprise- Shane. You couldn't seem to stop sketching the man, you thought with amusement at yourself. You had a serious problem. 

Then again, sometimes you thought he wasn't so much the problem as the solution. 

You drew him on the farm, shirt open and face set in determination, ax in hand as you'd gone to investigate what Andrea had thought was a walker. It seemed like a damn lifetime ago, but it wasn't. It'd been shortly before the first time you really opened up to Shane about things from the past, after barn and Sophia. He'd looked at you with such sympathy. Not pity, you thought. That you couldn't handle. 

But sympathy. 

Yeah, you really did need to start trusting him. Everything Mal had ever claimed would happen with someone who wasn't him, Shane had done the opposite. 

Mal had said you were an impossible bitch when you worked on a piece. Shane had laid on your couch for hours and watched you paint when you forgot he was even there, only to kiss your cheek and tell you it was amazing when you were done. Even when you'd trailed into silence in the middle of a conversation. 

Mal had said no one would want you for more than a roll in the hay once they knew you couldn't give them kids. Shane had held you close and told you it was ok, that you weren't broken. Shane said he needed you. 

Mal had said you were a whore and a slut for flirting with everything that moved for tips. Shane came in to hang out with you at work and gave you ideas for how to weasel more of a tip out of tightwads. 

Mal said your temper was dangerous, shameful, and off putting. Shane grinned and egged you on when you put assholes in their place. He'd only stopped you when you went for your knife on Andrea. Hell, he fucking called you Slugger. 

Mal said you were a moody, temperamental bitch and it was exhausting to deal with you for too long. Shane held you when you cried and told you in an offhand manner, like it was obvious, that you were allowed to feel things. 

You finished the sketch as the light went from evening toward night, chewing on your thumbnail as you wondered just why you always expected the worst from him. Shane took your worst and gave you acceptance, sympathy, and support back- always. 

You looked down at the sketch of him and smiled, decision made. Yeah. When he got back, you were going to put it all out there. Tell your Dickhead that you were head over heels in love with him, and see what happened. 

You were starting to think maybe he loved you too. 

You decided to do a quick walk of the fence line before you went inside and pretended to sleep. Shane and Rick did it every evening, at least once each, and with them gone you were in charge. You started in the yard, checking the gate first and then wandering along the guard run to make sure there were no weaknesses or breeches in the outer fence. Movement in the trees caught your eye, and you paused to stare. 

Whatever it was didn't move like a walker or a deer. It was too big to be squirrels or raccoons, but not big enough- and frankly the wrong part of the state- to be a bear. 

"What the hell?" you muttered as you caught the flash again. 

You turned to glance up at the prison, twisting your mom's ring on your finger as you thought about what the hell the correct decision was right now. Should you stay inside and not worry about? Go out and check it out alone? Go back and get Carol or Carl- 

Oh hell no, you weren't risking one of them just because you were paranoid. 

You grimaced again and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, this is a fuckin' great idea," you mumbled, checking the Glock and your knife. "Go out into the trees, with the walkers, alone at night; not tell anyone where you're going." 

You opened the gate just enough to slide through and secured it firmly behind you. Just because you chose to risk yourself did not mean you were willing to risk anyone else up there. 

"Shane's gonna fucking kill you, you crazy idiot," you informed yourself. "Fucking kill you." 

Malcolm Hall was on stage in the Lullaby when you came in, and you shook your head at what a blast from the past that was. You kept half an eye on the Atlanta music scene, so you'd heard he was in a band that was making the rounds from bar to bar. Since Ellie and Ben did live-music Saturdays and once-a-month Thursday acoustic nights, having a clue who was who on the bar band scene was helpful. Grave Behavior was gaining a solid rep as a decent rock band, with good covers and some interesting original works, and they'd already picked up a good crew of fans who came to whatever venue they played. The second part was why Ellie had booked them, because fans equal new customers which equals revenue, and newbies became regulars all the time around here.

You kept glancing toward the stage as they set up and you did prep work behind the bar. Jason was running late this shift. Ellie had hired a cute little pixie as a bar back for the two of you, but you had yet to train the girl at all and had told Ellie not to schedule her for the night, since she'd just get in the way and slow you guys down. She'd seemed nice enough when Ellie'd introduced you, if a little shy, but you needed practiced hands on live music nights. Jason being late wasn't an issue, since you could set up and break down this bar alone in half the time you could do it with him- too much chatter, plus Jason did things in a different order from you. 

You wondered if Malcolm would even remember you. It'd been a few years since high school- you rolled your eyes at yourself, since you were far closer to thirty than eighteen now- and he might have been in your classes and friendly when you got partnered in class, but he was never really your friend. 

He'd gotten cuter, though, you thought, lips turning up in appreciation as he strummed a bit and turned to speak to one of the other guys in the band with a grin and a laugh. That's for sure. 

A few minutes later he wandered over and leaned against the bar. "Hey," he said. 

"Hey," you answered, lifting an eyebrow at the flirty tone and look. "Guess you're our entertainment for the night." 

"Sure am, Ace. Malcolm Hall. We were-" 

You grinned. "In high school together. I remember you. Surprised you remember me." 

Malcolm's smile widened and he leaned toward you on his elbows. His blue eyes caught in the light and your pulse kicked up more than it should have, if you were being honest. "Of course I remember you. Ace Dixon. The artist with the mean punch. You saved my ass in chemistry a few times, and besides; who could forget someone as pretty as you?" 

You snorted. "Jesus Christ, that's laying it on thick. What can I do for you, Malcolm?" 

"Mal. We'd love a round before we get going, if you don't mind, but…" he glanced down, his cheeks turning red. "I'd like you to know we have a bet." 

"Really?" you asked, tone cooling drastically. "What kind of bet?" 

"See, Greg over there, he doesn't think you'd remember me. And then he also doesn't think there's any way someone as gorgeous as you could be single." 

You rolled your eyes. "Seriously, dude, I'm a bartender. I've heard this line before. What kind of beer you want? If you stick to local draft, you get the first three free for playing." 

Malcolm caught your hand as you started to push away and head to pull drafts. "I know it seems cheesy. But you really are beautiful. I've thought so since we were teenagers." 

You could feel your cheeks start to warm from the intensity of his eyes. You couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips when he flashed you a charming smirk. You rolled your eyes again and tugged your hand free, shaking your head as you headed down the bar. 

"It just so happens, Greg?" You looked back at Malcolm's face, and he'd leaned toward you, eyes wide and expectant. "Is wrong. Now what can I get you? I have to unlock the doors." 

In the trees, you moved carefully and quietly. You dropped a curious walker before you reached the spot you could have sworn you'd seen the movement. Nothing was there, and you frowned around you and held a lengthy mental debate about just letting it go and going back inside. 

"I've got to make sure," you told yourself with a sigh. "It's what they'd do, and I can take care of myself, damn it." 

You moved further into the trees, away from the prison, stepping almost as softly as Daryl over the leaves and twigs that covered the forest bed. You kept your eyes peeled, shoulders tense and tight with your knife in hand. You didn't pull the gun, because firing a shot out here right now seemed like a last-resort kind of deal. 

Something moved ahead of you, and you slipped closer. 

"What the hell?" you asked when you got to it and saw a white plastic trash bag nailed to the tree trunk and moving in the slight breeze. "That doesn't make any-" 

The crack of a twig behind you had you spinning, eyes searching the gloom. Something flashed in your peripheral vision and you turned toward it, and-- 

You noticed movement to one side of you and your concentration shattered. Shane leaned against the wall, watching you with a smile as you blinked rapidly and tried to come back to earth. 

"Hey, Ace," he said lightly. "Sorry, I could tell you were in the zone. Here." 

He handed you a glass of water, and you realized your throat was bone dry. You gulped at it while he flashed you a pleased grin and ran a hand through his hair. 

"You've been at it for four hours. I figured that was long enough for you to go without so much as a water break." 

Your eyes widened. "Four hours? No, you were just- you were telling me about that call you and Rick got, about the snake and-" 

Shane held up his phone to your face, biting his lip. You muttered a curse, because sure enough, it was ten pm now. Come to think of it, you'd vaguely noticed the light in the room seem to change. 

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," you said, eyes whipping back to Shane's. "I don't even- shit, I don't even remember the end of the story. Oh, god, I'm a terrible friend." 

"Slugger, chill. I've told you before, I love watching you work," Shane said with a roll of his eyes. "I ordered pizza. It should be here soon." 

Your stomach growled loudly and you shook your head with your eyes closed. "You should not have had to do that. You're a guest." 

Shane took the now-empty glass from your hands with a snort. "Please, don't insult me with that shit. Hope I turned on the right lights for you. When it got dark and you showed no signs of stopping, I figured you needed it." 

He'd turned on the work light you'd mounted over your drywall slab, as well as every other light in the place. The couch looked like he'd made himself comfortable, pillows situated so he could lean on the arm of the couch and see you and your copy of Wuthering Heights balanced on the arm. You smiled when you saw that he'd raided your cabinet for the funky pretzel twist things you kept in stock just for him. 

"Yeah, you did," you told him as he wandered back into your kitchen. You smirked at your stereo when it registered that he had Ed Sheeran singing about his bed sheets and the shape of someone's body. "I knew you liked my music." 

"Naw, I just know better than to mess with the damn thing. That'll snap your focus almost as fast as touching you. And might be as damn lethal." 

You snorted and set the airbrush gun down, bending over to ease the tension you'd just noticed in your back. "What can I say? I have good taste." 

"Yeah, you have good a lot of stuff. You working more tonight, or you up for some booze?" Shane asked. 

You straightened up and made a face. "Yeah, I'm done for the night. Still sorry. Must have been bored." 

"Shut up. How the hell could I have been bored? Watching you work is amazing, and besides, you have good books," Shane said with a shrug. "Though I never get much read, cause you always do something interesting about the time I settle in." 

You smiled slightly, cheeks turning red. "If you say so." 

"Yeah, I do," he said firmly. "Talk to me about this one." 

You took the drink he'd poured you- Jack and Coke; he was in a good damn mood tonight, and turned to study the half-finished piece. "Well, since you asked...." 

Shane slung his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into his side, gesturing with your glass as you talked.


	62. Lie #62: "We Can Go Back To Your Place For Revenge Sex If You Want, But It's Usually A Bad Idea" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mentioned sexual assault (cannon)

Of course, nothing went according to plan. Why on earth would Shane fucking expect that? 

First they ended up trapped in a cabin with Mr. Insanity himself, and even Rick's stubborn bastard look and voice couldn’t control that situation. Michonne fucking running the man through did, and she was about two seconds ahead of Shane handling it with a knife. 

When Daryl looked out the door and made a face, Shane started looking around. Then he caught Rick’s eye, nodded toward the body, and jerked his chin at the door. Rick had looked disgusted but nodded, and Mr. Insanity became their way out. 

Of course then they made it into the damn town and their people weren’t where Michonne lead them. Rick was-

Rick was off his fucking rocker still, Shane thought grimly while he talked Rick down from going off on her. Man was half-mad from grief over Lori and it wasn’t that Shane blamed him. It was that now was not the fucking time. 

They found Maggie and Glenn. Maggie was in Glenn’s shirt with that shadow behind her eyes that made Shane’s blood run cold because he’d seen it in Ace’s before and Glenn had been beaten to hell and back and could barely walk. Shane met Glenn’s eyes at one point, after he noticed Maggie was wearing Glenn’s shirt, and Shane recognized the rage boiling in Glenn. He’d felt it a time or two as well. 

But then they dropped the bomb that Merle fucking Dixon was here and had kidnapped them, and Daryl got a lost look and started insisting on finding his brother, and Shane sympathized. He wanted to find Ace's brother too, if only to punch him in the nose for this whole goddamn situation. 

But as with Rick’s bullshit, now was so not the time. 

Then they were under fire and they lost Oscar and the Samurai had disappeared. Shane was caught between taking a knee and helping Daryl lay down cover and getting Maggie over the bus; and he- he had to help Maggie. Daryl didn’t make it over, and Shane stared at Rick and Rick stared at Shane. 

They made a plan without any fucking words, and when Michonne reappeared, clearly having found a fight of her own, they left her and Glenn with the Hyundai, and Shane, Rick, and Maggie went back in. 

“‘I’ll lay down cover. Be right behind you’,” Shane muttered as he stared into an arena with Merle and Daryl back to back against walkers and punching. “Ace, your brothers are assholes.” 

Shane shot a walker, Maggie shot the lights, and Rick lobbed smoke grenades. Out of the swirling chaos came two angry Dixons, Daryl with his crossbow magically back in his hands- how the hell did the fucker manage that?- and Merle with a shit eating grin and a wink Shane’s way. 

Oh this was not going to be good, Shane thought as they did more running. Glenn was not going to like it at all.

Shane was right. Glenn was pissed and yelling. Michonne was pissed and yelling. Everyone was yelling, and Shane rubbed at his temples and prayed for it all to end so he could just get back to his girl, goddamn it. He stayed out of the great debate, knowing his opinion was significantly skewed by the fact that Ace's own sense of blind loyalty was almost equal to Daryl's. On the other hand, he really, truly didn't want Merle fucking Dixon to deal with again. 

He braced himself for what was going to happen when they got back without the asshole, because Shane could see which way Rick was going to go with this same as anyone. He was already mentally planning how to approach the issue with Ace when Daryl shocked the hell out of him. 

"Fine. We'll fend for ourselves. No Merle, no me." 

Shane stared at him as everyone started to object. What the actual fuck? What fucking power did Merle goddamn Dixon- currently hocking a loogie where he leaned against a tree- have over Daryl? 

Dixon remained firm in his resolve, heading toward the car to grab his crossbow and his rifle from the trunk. Shane stopped Rick when Rick would have followed Daryl and ran a hand through his hair as he joined Ace's brother instead. 

"What the hell are you doin', man? We started something last night. You said yourself he could be on the way to the prison." Shane was genuinely bewildered. What the hell did Merle fucking Dixon ever do to earn this? 

Daryl shot him a look, eyes hard. "That's my brother." 

"Yeah, I know. Your asshole brother who treats you like fucking shit," Shane pointed out. Seriously, Daryl and Ace were too goddamn similar. And it wasn't like Shane even liked Daryl that much, but it pissed him off to see the man go off with an asshole who treated him like crap, even if it was Ace's other brother.

Daryl rolled his eyes and slammed the trunk closed. He looked somewhere just to the left of Shane while chewing on his thumbnail. "Take care of Carl and Lil Ass-kicker, aight? They're good kids. Need all the parents they can get."

Shane's jaw tightened as he shook his head. He gestured angrily in the general direction of the prison. 

"What the hell am I supposed to tell your sister, huh?" he snarled in a low voice. This shit would devastate her, and he knew it. She loved Daryl, and Shane knew how much having him back in her life- back as her brother for real- meant to her. 

Daryl shifted, looking pained, but shrugged one shoulder and looked at Shane's feet. "She'll understand. It's Merle. Tell her it won't be for long. Just a few days, 'till everyone fuckin' calms down. She'll get it." 

Shane rubbed his hand over the back of his head and sighed. "You're gonna break her fucking heart. You think she'll understand? She'll see you choosing him over her, and she'll decide it's because she isn't worth coming back to. You know it as well as I do, man; but do what you're going to." 

Shane turned and walked away as anger flashed in Daryl's eyes. He did not give a shit, because Dixon was going to hurt the most important person in Shane's world. He could be pissed about the truth if he wanted to; Shane was still going to tell it like it was. 

"What do ya want me to do, Walsh? He's my brother! I left him once; don't ask me to do it again!" Daryl snapped. 

Shane turned back and shrugged. "I don't know, Dixon. But this? This ain't the right choice." 

Daryl scoffed and flipped Shane off, hitching his crossbow up as he stalked to his asshole brother's open arms. Shane watched as Merle clapped Daryl on the back and tossed an arm around his shoulders, already running his goddamn mouth. Daryl shrugged Merle's arm off and stalked ahead, turning to stab a finger in Merle's direction as he fired something back angrily. 

Rick walked to Shane's side, eyes hard and tired. "Come on, brother. We've gotta get Maggie and Glenn home." 

Shane sighed and ran a hand over his mouth, then looked at Rick. "Ace is gonna be so fuckin' hurt, Rick. Are you sure about this?" 

Rick didn't speak for a minute, looking at the trees where the Dixon brothers had disappeared. Finally he looked at Shane, meeting his eyes steadily. "I wish I saw another way. I'll tell her." 

Shane shook his head. "No. I will. She'll take it better from me." 

Carl and Carol were on the gate when they pulled up, and Shane wondered why Ace wasn't. They both looked nervous as all hell too, and Shane just what was going on as he climbed out of the passenger side. 

Rick and Carl crashed together as Shane opened the back door and helped Maggie out, and Carol stood fidgeting and looking nervous as hell. 

"Where's Daryl?" She looked from Shane and Maggie to Glenn and Michonne as the doors slammed shut. 

Shane hesitated and glanced at the cell block. "Where's Ace? She, uh- she needs to hear this first." 

Carol went deathly pale and Shane cursed himself. He reached for Carol's shoulder immediately, holding her wide eyes with his. 

"No, don't worry, he's not dead. He's fine, it's just- damn it. Merle was part of it all, and Daryl's with Merle. Now where's Slugger? She ain't gonna like this." Shane started to brush past Carol toward the cell block, but Carl called him. 

"Uncle Shane." 

Shane turned at that tone, going even more tense. He was achieving new levels of that here lately; ones he didn't know he could reach. Everyone looked at the kid and Carol, who had her eyes on the ground and her hand pressed to her mouth. 

Shane eyed her and Carl. "What's going on?" 

"Son?" Rick asked when Carl hesitated. 

"I- I found people. Live people. They got in through the back of the prison. There's four of them. They're locked in the common area," the kid said, glancing up at Rick. "I heard the fighting and I couldn't let them die." 

Rick shifted and rubbed a hand along his eyes. "Carl, what-" 

"That's not all," Carol said. 

Shane had been staring at the kid and Rick, trying to figure out just what the hell to do with this development. New people, who got inside the prison? When that asshole with his cage match could be on his way, and Daryl and Merle had run off and were going to leave his girl devastated? Fucking Christ, and Maggie had been through some shit and Glenn was full of rage and Shane and Rick had a fucking baby they hadn't even checked on yet, and- 

"Uncle Shane, don't freak out," Carl said, breaking Shane's mental spiral. 

He snapped to attention at that, wondering just what the fuck that was supposed to mean. "About what?" 

"It's- It's Ace," Carol said slowly. 

Shane whirled on her and her eyes went wide, and Shane reminded himself sternly that Carol's life had been a helluva lot like Ace's. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, forcing his shoulders to relax and his fists to relax even as he ground the words out. 

"What about Ace?"

Shane turned and leaned against the bar, scanning the crowd absently for Slugger. 

This place was pretty decent, Shane had decided, but the club scene just wasn't his style. He much preferred the Lullaby, but Ace- Ace had wanted to dance. He knew it by the way she'd dressed, even if she hadn't given him those damn pleading eyes yet to get him out there into the press of bodies going hard to the blasting drums and guitar. 

Shane didn't mind his music loud, or his lyrics as indecipherable as these had been so far, but they'd been practically screaming in each other's ears in order to talk for the past bit. Shane wondered how much longer Ace was going to put off biting her lip, tossing back her drink and snatching his, and disappearing into the crowd to make him find her if he wanted his damn beer back. 

He was already grinning at the thought, knowing when he did find her she'd already be dancing- probably with some jerk who thought he'd be going home with her- and she'd flash Shane that sly look as she drove the poor fool mad. And when Shane walked up, grabbed his drink from her, and stole his dance partner back, the guy would give Shane a look of such loathing Shane would feel it in his soul. 

And not give a good damn. 

Shane took another sip and frowned when the song changed. Yeah, she'd been gone too long. What the hell was going on in that fucking bathroom? 

He scanned around and his eyes narrowed when he spotted her. She was on the edge of the crowd, and Shane read tension in the lines of her body as some drunk asshole leaned in to yell into her ear. Asshole's hand lingered just a little too goddamn low for Shane's taste, hovering right on the edge of truly inappropriate. 

When Ace opened her door, Shane had just shaken his head, knowing he'd be fending people off her all damn night. She'd grinned and winked at him, her lips painted vicious ruby red, which set off the tint in her hair. Shane had commented on the color being tame for her- something she called 'rose gold'- but now he got it. Add in the strapless, skin-tight black number with a flippy little skirt that barely covered her ass, fucking fishnet tights, and thigh-high boots, and Shane started mentally calculating the odds of him having to flash his badge or pretend to be Ace's boyfriend or some such shit to back a bastard off. They were looking pretty damn high, he thought now. Wouldn't be the first time. 

The asshole had his hand perilously close to Ace's ass, and Shane could see the moment coming when Slugger earned her damn nickname. He shoved off the bar with a sigh, grabbing both their drinks and wandering over to her. 

"Hey, sweetheart, there you are," he half-yelled. The music had dropped in volume from deafening to merely loud, and Ace turned eyes to him that held an expression Shane didn't like. 

She almost looked scared of this dickwad. 

"Shane!" she exclaimed, and started to duck away from the asshole practically groping her. 

The guy wrapped his arm around her and dug his fingers into her hip while glaring at Shane. 

Shane stared as Ace went still. Now she really did look fucking scared, and Shane felt himself start to see red. Forget the fucking badge. This guy didn't get his hand off Ace right now, Shane would remove it for him. 

"Who are you?" the asshole asked. "Thought you said you weren't attached." 

Ace's eyes flashed and her shoulders squared suddenly. "No, you said I couldn't possibly be or my boyfriend wouldn't let me wander around the club alone, because I'm a walking advertisement for sex. Now, I can't even begin to explain why that's insulting on a thousand different levels, and you wouldn't get it if I tried. So I'll keep it simple: I'm with him. Let go of me." 

The asshole glanced at Shane and sneered. Shane took a sip from his beer and didn't move an inch. Bastard had three more seconds and Shane was doing something about it. 

Ace started to step away again. The bastard's fingers tightened on her hip as his mouth opened. 

Shane lobbed his beer bottle at the guy's head, dropped Ace's fruity concoction, and shoved between the asshole and Ace all in one motion. Ace's hand gripped the back of his shirt, but Shane didn't turn to her yet, keeping an eye on the asshole and staying right in his space.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, grabbing at the spot where Shane's bottle had bounced off his head before shattering on the floor like Ace's glass. 

People had moved backward when the bottle was thrown and Shane moved, and they muttered with wide eyes and hands to their mouths as security made their way toward them. Shane kept one eye on security's progress and the other on the asshole. 

"She told you to let her go," he said firmly. "You should have." 

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?" 

Shane shrugged. "Nobody. The lady told you what to do. You didn't listen. All you've got is a bruised ego and beer on your shirt. Keep it that way and clear the fuck out." 

The asshole's face twisted. 

"Shane!" Ace yelped, but Shane ducked the swing easily and drove his elbow up into the asshole's solar plexus. 

Shane stepped back as the guy doubled over and security converged on them. Shane pulled his badge and flashed it at a bouncer, whose eyes widened. He gestured Shane and Ace to come with them and hauled the asshole toward the door. 

Shane wrapped an arm around Ace, who looked way more stressed than Shane was about the whole thing, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Don't worry, Slugger. We'll be dancing in no time." 

Shane was right, since the bouncer had been watching the whole thing go down and only really wanted to know if Shane or Ace wanted to press charges. Ace had rolled her eyes when Shane considered it, but he waved it off so he could go get her another fruit thing and out on the dance floor. 

"My hero," she teased, batting her eyes at him as he handed it to her. She took a sip and flashed him a grin. "Nice move with the beer bottle, but did you have to sacrifice my drink too?" 

Shane rolled his eyes at her. "Stop. " 

"Oh, come on. You couldn't have handled that asshole with drink in hand and never spilled a drop?" She leaned toward him on the bar stool as she sipped again, where he stood beside her since the whole damn place was packed. Shane studied the mischief in her eyes and was glad she hadn't been too freaked out by the asshole. He wondered what the guy had said to make her look scared, when she put dicks in their place all the time back at the Lullaby. 

Shane tucked that tumble of hair behind her ear when she flashed him a smirk and shook his head at her. "You're a little shit sometimes, you know that, right?" 

She let out a peel of laughter and brushed her lips to his cheek. "Yeah. You love it." 

"I mostly just pray it doesn't get me hit," he muttered into his own drink, but winked to show he was teasing. 

Then her face light up as the music hit thundering. She tossed back her drink, snatched Shane's beer from his hands, and bounced to her feet. She wiggled first the beer and then her hips to the hot salsa beat as a voice declared 'no fighting!' 

She bit her lip as Shane leaned on the bar and stared her down, doing a cha-cha step as the drums started. Shane grinned and waited, and sure enough, she lifted his beer to her lips and took a sip as she backed up a couple of paces. He shoved off the bar and she danced backward with a grin, so he ended up stalking her onto the floor. 

She finally let him catch her, already moving her hips like the woman currently wailing that her hips didn't lie- whatever that meant, Shane wasn't really listening- as she lifted her arms to wind around his neck. Shane's hands slid down her body as he rolled his eyes, and she took another sip of his beer before he snatched the bottle back. 

Then she got serious, and Shane slid one leg between hers and circled his hips like he was in a Latin ballroom class. She moved with him, following his lead with a hand curled in his hair, the other flat on his chest, and her lip caught between her teeth. The little flippy skirt wasn't covering much of anything, Shane imagined, as she spun away, up onto her toes, and shook her ass impossibly fast with her hands in the air and Shane's on her hips. He yanked her back against him when the distance made him ache, and she grinned as she ground her whole body against his to the beat. 

He shook his head at her even as he found himself smiling back, caught up in the carnival beat and the sheer joy in her face. Then he spun her around, thinking she'd lean into him like usual, but she shoved her ass into him and rolled forward, bending double with her back arched and her ass popped out and glancing over her shoulder toward him as she rolled back upright. 

"Jesus, Slugger, this isn't a fucking strip club!" he snapped, deciding it was probably safer to keep her facing him if she was gonna do shit like that. She winked at him and dropped slowly, moving like a snake, with her hands all up in her own hair. 

Shane's hands slid along her arms until he grabbed her wrists and pulled her back up, and she settled in against him as they returned to the sex-on-the-dance-floor move they'd started with. 

"You're gonna get us kicked out of here," he told her sternly when she arched back in his hands and shook her head so her hair flew everywhere. 

She winked at him. "It's not dancing if I don't get asked at least once if you had a hard-on the whole time." 

He choked. "Good Lord." 

"Why bring him into it? Hardly seems like the place for religion. Besides, you do," she added, thrusting her hip against him a little more than necessary. 

Shane shook his head with a sigh and a glare. "Fuck you, Slugger." 

"Naw, we aren't like that," she shot back. "I'll stop, though." 

She pulled out of his arms a little, flashing him a demure smile, and started doing those slow hip circles that absolutely did nothing to help with the hard-on she'd mentioned. 

He bit his lip and lifted an eyebrow at her. "What the hell's gotten into you tonight?" 

"Oh God, I don't know," she answered with a grimace as she did one of those boob shimmy things to the ending notes of the song. She stood still and panting, shoving a hand through her hair as she met his eyes apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm in a weird mood." 

"I noticed," he said dryly. "Don't mind it, necessarily; just wanna make sure you're ok." 

She lifted one shoulder, automatically starting to sway with the next song. Shane did the same, his hand going to her waist to pull her back toward him. 

"I don't know. That asshole pissed me off and scared me. I don’t like it when people swing at you. Plus, I’ve had a weird ass week. Mal was in a particularly foul mood this week and-“ she cut off, shrugging again and shaking her head. “He accused me of cheating on him with you. I think I’m being a bitch to get back at him, somehow, but he’s not here and you are. It’s not fair to you, Dickhead, and I’m sorry.” 

Her expression was soft and open and at odds with the way they were grinding on each other again, her arms around his neck and his hands perilously close to the same place the asshole’s had been. Shane deliberately moved his hands, skimming one along her arm and wrapping one in her hair as he leaned his forehead against hers. 

“Not being a bitch. Confusing, maybe,” he admitted. “Not a bitch. I mean, we can go back to your place for revenge sex if you want, but it’s usually a bad idea.” 

She laughed, like he’d known she would, and shook her head. “I’d rather just dance. I’ll be good; I swear.” 

Shane snorted. “God, I hope not. Let’s go, Slugger. See how many inappropriate comments you can get tonight.” 

She flashed him a wicked grin and her eyes lit up. “That a challenge, Officer Walsh?” 

“Hell yeah it is.” 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s ‘gone’?” Shane snarled, rage bubbling up in him that he tried fiercely to control. 

Carol held her ground, so he must not have been scaring her too badly. She met his eyes with sympathy. “We don’t know. She’d gone out to sketch, and Carl saw her checking the fence line when it got dark and he went to bring her in for dinner.” 

“She went into the trees, and she didn’t come back,” Carl said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, Uncle Shane. I should have followed her.” 

Shane closed his eyes to fight back the panic, but if there was one thing that would have made this worse, it would have been Carl out there at night. “No. No, you shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have gone out either. Where? I’ve gotta- gotta look-“ 

And most likely, if he found her, he’d be putting her walking corpse down, a voice whispered, cold and ugly, and Shane shuddered at the thought. Not her. Not Ace. 

Please, God, not his Ace. 

“We looked this morning. Sorry Rick, but-“ Carol said, voice apologetic, and Shane opened his eyes to see Rick wave that off, his partner’s face grin. 

Carol turned back to Shane. “We found her gun, her knife, and a trash bag nailed to a tree. I think- I think someone took her.” 

“The Governor,” Shane snarled, pulling his gun and checking it grimly. “Rick-“ 

“Hold on, brother,” Rick cautioned, setting a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Hold on. We just got back. We’ve gotta- we’ll go look together, then we’ll figure out what to do.” 

Shane snarled. “Then let’s go, man!” 

“We will. Brother, we will. But we need to go inside and deal with the people Carl found first. See if they had anything to do with it.” Rick held Shane’s eyes with his stubborn bastard look and Shane stared blankly back at him. 

If they had…. 

Shane nodded once and spun on his heel, stalking toward the cell doors.


	63. Lie #63: "I Want To Know" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
past domestic violence/abuse  
threat of domestic violence/abuse  
rape/non con elements

Lips slid across your shoulder, brushed the side of your neck, and started trailing down your back, gliding over your spine. You smiled as you half-woke, swimming up out of the darkness slowly. Shane and the others must be back, you thought. Though it was weird for him to wake you up like this- Shane always waited until you were completely awake before starting anything. Not that you were objecting. It was nice. 

You went cold and still, your mind jerking to a stop when the trailing kisses skipped over the scar where it crossed your spine and a hand slid over your hip. 

Shane didn’t skip the scar. And you wouldn’t be lying naked in bed in the prison, for a whole host of reasons, last but not least being- 

You burst into motion, scrambling desperately out of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, even as your head exploded into pain at the motion. You stumbled as you got to your feet, eyes searching for clues about where you were, what was happening, and fucking who had their hands on you. 

You stopped breathing when he laughed softly, your eyes closing as you went goddamn lightheaded. 

“Hey, Ace.” 

You swallowed hard against the bile in the back of your throat. “Hello, Malcolm.” 

“I’m fine.” You said it flatly, for what was probably the zillion time since you walked into the Lullaby. And the goddamn doors weren’t even open yet. 

Jason snorted. “You’ve got stitches.” 

“No,” you ground out through your clenched jaw, slicing limes a little more vigorously than necessary. “I have a healing cut where I had stitches. The stitches are out.” 

He made a noncommittal noise and grabbed the lemons and a knife of his own. “Did Shane-“

You flinched. “I’m not talking about it, Jason. I just wanna tend bar and make some cash, ok? I’m fine.” 

He hesitated and laid the knife down, reaching over and gripping your hand that you couldn’t deny shook slightly. He waited until you looked at him and shook his head. “Look, Ace, your personal life is your own. But Malcolm will never set foot in here again. You might forgive him, but we don’t. We love you. I hope you know that.” 

You closed your eyes and reached up to tighten your ponytail. They meant well. You kept telling yourself that as you smiled slightly at Jason. “I know. I love you guys too. I’m really ok.” 

Jason sighed again and turned back to the lemons. “So what are we serving as a special tonight?” 

"How the hell are you alive?" you asked, backing away from Malcolm fucking Hall. You wanted to look around for something, anything to use as a weapon. 

Unfortunately, you couldn't take your eyes from Mal. Somewhere on the edge of your vision you saw what looked like a shirt tossed over the edge of a chair, and your hand groped for it while Mal watched, faintly amused. 

He shrugged. "I survived." 

You swallowed hard at that tone, the one that promised pain was coming your way, and your hands shook as you pulled the shirt over your head. It wasn't one of Mal's, at least not originally, since it hung loose to mid-thigh on you. Malcolm was skinny as a fucking rail and wasn’t especially tall, for all he could pack some power behind a goddamn punch. 

You felt better covered and tried not to think too fucking hard about what it meant to wake up naked. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to focus through the pounding of your heart and the way most of you was screaming to give him whatever he wanted, now, before he decided to start taking it. 

He watched you, eyes hot and possessive and fucking delighted. You were way too good at reading him not to see it all in his face, even past the full beard he’d never allowed to grow before the end of the goddamn world.

"How?" you asked, pulling on all the lying skills you'd ever learned to keep your voice steady and your face calm. "Merle put a hit out on you before this mess." 

Mal's face contorted with rage for a brief moment and you shivered. Then it was all smooth amusement again as he rose. 

You damn near vomited right there when you realized he was naked as you had been, and still hard as a rock. Fucker got off on your fear and you knew it, but it didn't make it any easier to control your pounding heart or the way you could feel your breathing was too damn shallow. You dug your nails into your palms as he pulled on jeans, looking for details to help keep you from spinning out of control. Fight, you told yourself grimly. Not freeze, not fawn, not flee. You fought now. 

He had new scars, you noted dully. One in particular was shiny and wider than his hand, running over his side. He'd been shot at least once. Stabbed and sliced up some, too, if the thinner, silvery lines on his arms were indicators. He sat back down and gestured lazily, and you noticed one of his fingers had been broken and not set correctly. From the looks of it, he'd never play guitar the same again. 

"Ah, yes, your… absolute asshole of an older brother. He's here, you know," he said with a smug smile. 

You went blank for the second time. "What? He's- what?" 

Mal laughed again and ran a hand over his beard. "I forgot, you don't even know where ‘here’ is, do you? I suppose you'd like to know." 

You stared at him without saying anything and his face went hard. He rose, one fist clenching, and took a step toward you. 

"Tell me you want to know," he snapped. 

"I- I want to know," you whispered, the words drawn out of you completely against your will as your eyes fixed on his fist. 

He’d damn near killed you before the end of the world. You couldn’t imagine it had made him more mellow. 

Mal smiled again and his fist relaxed. "Good girl," he said slowly. "That's my Ace." 

Shame washed over you, so strong you almost sank under the burning weight of it. But something about the way he said 'my Ace' pissed you off and made it so you could stand. You clung to the anger, using it to straighten your spine and shove the fawning instinct away. 

You weren't Malcolm fucking Hall's. You were Shane's, goddamn it, and he'd be coming for you. He'd be coming. 

Mal wasn't going by Malcolm here. He'd started using his middle name when word got around that there was a price on his head in Atlanta, and he'd stuck with it after everything. Malcolm Anthony Hall had become Anthony Lexington, using his mother's maiden name. 

He'd grown his beard, dyed his hair, and lost the rock star vibes in favor of jeans and t shirts and sunglasses, and crashed on the couches of friends of friends until one of those friends decided trying to eat him was a great idea and another had shot him in the side trying to kill the walker. Mal'd been left for dead, he told you, and he didn't blame the guy one bit. 

Hell, he should have been dead. 

But he was one lucky goddamn bastard, and ended up getting found by someone named Derek, an ex-Marine asshole who'd found a few other survivors and got them out of bombed out Atlanta. They'd patched Mal- Anthony to them- up, and he'd joined the group. That group, it turned out, had ranged out into the countryside and picked up more strays along the way, forming a band of toughs that included one punk ass kid named motherfucking Randall. 

You got queasy all over again thinking how close he'd come to finding you way back on the farm. 

His group was killed off by the herd that tore through the farm, and good fucking riddance, you thought viciously. Mal and a couple of others managed to survive, and they fought their way through the first half of the winter until they were picked up by Martinez, the Jim Jones Governor, and- 

And your older brother. 

Merle was alive. Merle was alive and had been killing people for the Governor. He'd kidnapped Maggie and Glenn, shot Michonne, and been torturing your friends for information when your people had come to bust them out. 

They'd succeeded, and taken Merle with them. 

The fierce joy that flooded you when you learned Maggie and Glenn were free faded into dull despair when you realized that meant they wouldn't be coming for you after all. The element of surprise was gone, and there was no way they could break into this place a second time. It wasn't possible, and it certainly wasn't worth it with them knowing where the prison was. They'd need everyone there, not risking themselves for one woman. 

\--- Hey, Slugger 

You glanced at Malcolm and the guys, doing a sound check on the stage. The street fair was in full swing, and Grave Behavior was about to start rocking. Mal would get pissed if you spent the whole time texting Shane. 

Then again, Mal was always pissed, and you missed Shane. 

\--- Yo, Dickhead. Long time no talk. What are you up to?

\--- standing outside your apartment, and you're not home. Where you at, girl? Haven't seen you in awhile, and got a wild hair. 

You chewed on your thumbnail, wishing desperately you could go hang with Shane at home instead of being here. Mal had clocked you in the jaw last night, and you were tired and had a headache and sore from the hit and the make-up sex after, and all you really wanted to be doing today anyway was sleeping. 

You certainly hadn't wanted to come stand in bright sunlight and listen to rock and roll at blistering decibels, no matter how much you liked Grave Behavior. Maybe Mal would believe you if you said you were sick. The guys had all asked you if you felt ok today, and you'd gotten a hissed lecture from him already about showing appropriate enthusiasm. 

\--- give me an hour and I'll be there. Let yourself in; you know where the key is. 

You shoved your phone in your pocket, walked over to the nearest trashcan, and used a skill you hadn't practiced since high school to gag until you puked. Mal didn't object to you leaving after that.

Shane had Chinese takeout on the coffee table when you trudged up the stairs and let yourself in. He took one look at your face, ordered you to sit, and turned some mindless episode of his current season of sports on your tv. 

You were asleep on his shoulder in minutes. 

Mal gave you pants, at least, so you were fully dressed. He said your clothes had been filthy, so he'd sent them out to be cleaned. You shoved thoughts of what might have happened while you were still unconscious from your mind, because otherwise you'd fall apart and you weren't sure you'd be able to fight back if the moment arose. 

Mal grabbed you by the arm and told you the Governor needed to meet you, heading toward the door and dragging you along with him. He might have given you pants, you thought in annoyance, but he'd skipped fucking shoes. He'd taken the initiative to sneak through what he called 'the red zone' and grab you on his own, and he was looking forward to being suitably rewarded. 

He led you through the apartment building and onto what could have been Main Street in any podunk town in Georgia. You stared, trying hard to take everything in to tell Shane and the others later, when you came back to burn this goddamn place to the ground. 

Of course, it looked like someone had already tried to, you thought with satisfaction and pride. You passed several bodies, saw bullet holes in buildings, and heard the commotion from afar. 

Cars were loaded down and crowded around the massive front gates. Armed sentries stood on the walls yelling and trying to keep people in, and then the call of 'walkers' went up. The sentries on the wall started shooting, horns were honking left and right in a cacophony that was bound to draw more of the dead, and chaos reigned as people yelled. 

Mal muttered a curse and started hauling you faster. You drug your feet, figuring this was as good a time as any to resist. He wouldn't hit you on the street, at least. 

Probably. 

Mal's hand tightened and you knew you'd have bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

Sudden screaming split the air and you whirled, hand reaching automatically toward your hip for a gun that wasn't there. You'd worry about what that said about you later, after the walkers currently chewing up some asshole were handled. 

Mal reached toward his waistband, but he didn't have a weapon either. He'd refrained to keep you from possibly getting your hands on it, you supposed, and assured yourself mentally that snatching a weapon from him was something you were, in fact, fully capable of. 

Andrea strode up out of the crowd, dropping two of the walkers as some asshole in a ball cap dropped a third. She stared down at the poor bastard who'd been dinner- or rather breakfast- and you stared at her. 

How the fuck was she alive? You thought wildly. Was everyone you thought dead actually alive? Mal, Merle, Andrea- who was next? Lori? Fucking Will? 

"Help him!" a voice pleaded from the crowd. 

Andrea looked helplessly around, and her eyes widened on you. "Ace?" she whispered. 

You were so done with today. There couldn't be anything else, right? Right? 

Mal jerked beside you as some asshole with a fresh gauze pad over one eye brushed past you without a word, shot the whimpering man in the head, and brushed by again to disappear into another building. 

"What the fuck?" you mumbled as the gathered residents looked as confused and scared as you were.


	64. Lie #64: "Just Fight Back, Damn It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
****domestic abuse****  
*** rape/non con****

Mal kept his bruising grip on your arm while Milton attempted to calm the crowd. Your eyes stayed fixed Andrea's, begging her to get the message that you one hundred percent were not here of your own volition and needed a rescue, goddamn it. 

Either she didn't get the message or your earlier association no longer mattered, because she looked from you to Malcolm briefly, then turned and followed who you had deduced was the Governor. Bitch, you thought viciously. Thank God Shane hadn't actually slept with her.

You shoved thoughts of Shane to the back of your mind, forcing yourself to focus on your current situation. The asshole with the glasses- Milton, according to Malcolm- did a piss poor job of calming anyone and more and more people started joining the crowd. Mal and Milton decided retreat was in order and started for the doors Andrea had disappeared through. 

Andrea was arguing with the one-eyed bastard, her tone pissed, when Milton tapped on the open door. "Don't drive me away. Not now," she hissed, and Milton hesitated before knocking. 

So that's how it was. Andrea and the Governor were shacking up. Guess that meant there wasn't going to be much in the way of assistance from her. 

"What?" The Governor snapped, turning to the door. His eye focused on you and he tilted his head slightly to the side. He dismissed you as unimportant and looked back at Milton. 

"The whole town in out in the street," Milton said in his mild-mannered voice. "It could get ugly again." 

The Governor went back to cleaning a gun, not saying anything. Andrea stared at him and let out a sigh when he didn't do anything. She headed toward the door, jerking her chin at Milton and waving toward the hallway. 

"Come on. Let's do something about the crowd. He's too busy preparing for war to care about his people right now. Anthony, where did you-" she said in a low voice, turning toward Malcolm with her eyes lingering on you. 

Mal jerked you further into the room, brushing past her without a word. "Governor." 

The Governor looked up from Rick's sheriff bag and your eyes fixed on it. It was still loaded down with guns, and you realized Andrea must have gotten it when the farm was overrun. 

Shane's bag was almost identical, full of endless odds and ends he could pull out of there with a triumphant smile. Your eyes swam and burned at the thought of him, and the whispering fears you'd been shoving back since waking up with Mal's lips on your skin came crashing down. Shane wouldn't want you back by the time Mal was through with you. He might have handled all the things that came before the two of you, but- but if you - 

You shied away from that with a physical flinch, drawn back into the present by the Governor's voice. 

"What do you want, Anthony?" 

"I brought you a gift. She's one of them. She knows things about the prison," Mal said, shoving you forward. "It's Merle's sister. My girlfriend, actually." 

"Your ex-girlfriend," you snapped. 

Mal backhanded you across the face. 

Pain shot through you and you let out a surprised yelp. You shook your head and rubbed one hand on your cheek, glaring at Mal and the Governor, who hadn't batted a fucking eye. The Governor came around the table slowly, clearly sizing you up. 

"So. You're one of them," he said. "And you're a Dixon. Pity I don't trust Dixons anymore. Merle was my top man." 

You didn't speak. 

"You're tough, aren't you? So were your friends. Your brother, Merle, he beat the shit out of Glenn. Even through a walker at him while he was tied to a chair. Glenn didn't give up anything. Maggie, she- she is a pretty girl," he said with a slow, predatory smile. "Not as pretty as you, though." 

You scoffed and sneered, but your heart had started pounding. Merle had beat up Glenn? Tried to feed him to a walker? Sure, you low-key hated him at times, but you didn't believe he was capable of all that. 

As for what the Governor was implying, well. You'd woken up naked in Mal's bed. You already knew things were going to happen that you didn't want- if they hadn't already. You wished you knew what the hell had happened while you were unconscious.

Sorry, Shane, you thought before you could stop yourself. 

The Governor walked around behind you and ran a hand down your back. "How do I get in the prison?" he whispered into your ear. 

You closed your eyes and said nothing, even as your jaw clenched. You wanted to run far, far away from here, from the hand lingering just above your ass. You wanted to turn around and hit him, visualized throwing one of those punches Shane had named you Slugger for. 

Your feet were rooted to the ground and your hands shook. 

The punch came from the side, catching your jaw and snapping your head back like Mal's slap had done, but so much worse. You hit the deck, breath going out of you in a whoosh, and didn't even try to stop the tears falling. 

You'd forgotten, you thought duly as you covered your head and braced for the kick you figured would follow. You'd forgotten what this felt like. It fucking sucked. 

Mal drug you out of the Governor's apartment ten minutes later, his face a mask of anger that promised the pain was far from over. 

You'd have whimpered, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You clung to the fact that you hadn't told them anything. Every blow, every kick, every threat, and your body throbbed and your thoughts were dull and numb, but you hadn't told them anything. You'd stayed silent, even when you wanted to scream. 

"Take her back to your place," the Governor had said in disgust. "See if you can get anything out of her." 

The crowd had dispersed, and Andrea- your only maybe-ally in this place, and even that you weren't sure of- was nowhere to be seen. You stumbled along under Mal's bruising hand, trying to memorize streets and how many sentries you saw on the walls and anything else that looked significant, but your head throbbed and your feet were raw on the pavement and your side ached like you'd busted a rib again. Paying attention was second to staying on your feet and not adding more damage to the mix. 

If you wanted to get out of here, you'd need to be functional. 

You'd escape, you informed yourself. You'd find your moment and you'd spring into action. You just hadn't found your moment yet. 

You pointedly ignored the treacherous voice that said you'd never find your moment because fighting Mal was a futile effort. You were his, the voice said. The end of the world and loving Shane hadn't been able to change that; what made you think little old you would be able to now? 

He shoved you inside and closed the door slowly but firmly. You stumbled into the edge of the bed and forced yourself back to your feet. 

Mal stalked toward you and glared, his jaw tight. "What the hell was that, Ace?" 

"What was what?" you shot back, lifting your eyebrow in challenge. "Me not spilling my friends' secrets? It's called loyalty." 

Mal's hand shot out and he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling until you cried out and tears spilled from your eyes against your will. "I'm the one you should be loyal to, bitch." 

"Why?" you gasped out. "Because you kept coming back after you'd beat me up or cheat on me? That's not love, asshole, and it certainly doesn't deserve my loyalty. I know better now." 

"Do you?" he said coldly. "Well, well, well. Ace found herself another good fuck. I'm not surprised. They always want a taste. But where is he now?" 

"He's coming for me," you snarled. You tried not to hear the voice that said you were wrong; that he wouldn't come. That you didn't deserve him to come, and certainly wouldn't when Mal was done with you. 

Mal laughed, his hand pulling on your hair as he forced you down to your knees. He jerked your head back at an uncomfortable angle, running a finger down your neck as you tried to keep breathing. "Is he? Well. When he gets here, I'll handle him too. For now, though, I've got my hands full with you, don't I? Time to remember who loves you, Ace Dixon." 

You closed your eyes as he reached for the button on his jeans, ordering yourself to fight back this time. Just fight back, damn it.

You were tired and your hip throbbed where you'd slammed it into the counter the night before when you and Mal were arguing. You pushed through the pain anyway and you knew for a fact no one had noticed, thank you very much, because people just kept drinking and ordering and drinking some more. 

Goddamn it, you were crabby tonight.

Mal and the boys fell into blessed silence about the time you actually served the last drink you had left on your backlog of orders, and you and Jason glanced at each other. You quirked an eyebrow, he grinned, and you threw up your hands for rock, paper, scissors to see who got to go smoke a quick cigarette. 

And three people waved all at the same time. So much for that, you thought with an eye roll Jason's way as you got back to work. 

A couple minutes later the driving drums and guitar began again, and you forced your cheerful smile onto your lips through gritted teeth. The kitchen started screaming your name this time and you seriously contemplated quitting. You swept up the tray full of plates and started working your way down the bar, dropping orders where they went and hoping like hell you didn't bust ass tonight because of your hip. 

You froze on your way to return the tray to the kitchen as Mal's voice registered, springing to the front of your mind from the background hum you'd relegated him and the band to as he rolled into the chorus of one of your favorite songs. 

"Do you feel like a man, when you push her around? Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?" 

You turned slowly, eyes wide. Was he seriously singing a song condemning pushing your partner around on the same day he'd shoved you into the counter? You stared blankly at him, his eyes closed as he held onto the mic and wailed it out, completely unaware of the level of irony in his fucking choices. 

Jason started to slide by you and frowned when he got a look at your face. "You ok, Ace?" he yelled over Malcolm's fucking voice. 

You swallowed hard and ran a hand over your eyes. "Yeah, I- I gotta take ten, J. Hold down the fort for me?" 

He nodded, still looking confused and worried. You never took a break unless everything was under control, and right now, the damn bar was chaos. 

But you couldn't fucking do it. 

You snatched your phone and dumped the tray, heading for the staff door without saying a word to anyone or meeting their eyes. 

Outside, your hands shook as you lit up and leaned against the wall, under the whisky label mural you really needed to make time to touch up. You blew smoke and sighed, closing your eyes before you started crying right there. 

He was up there, singing a song you loved about a woman having enough of a fucking abuser. It was the kind of song you listened to when you were ready to be done with Malcolm and his temper once and for all, the kind you used to pump yourself up to calling it off. And he was up there singing it like he didn't know he was exactly the man it was directed toward. 

You sniffed as a tear actually did escape. Goddamn, everything hurt tonight. You were too fucking tired from arguing half the damn day and not sleeping like you should have been. You wanted to go home, curl up in that plaid shirt you'd stolen from Shane, and- Shane.

A glance at your phone had you biting your lip, wondering if you should call him. You'd probably wake him up, you knew. But Jesus. You wanted- you wanted to tell him what was going on. You wanted to be done with this shit, and Shane was a cop. 

He'd know what to do. 

You dialed his number by heart, because it was faster than finding his contact. 

"Hey, Slugger. What's wrong?" He sounded sleepy, but he'd answered on the second ring. 

"Hey. How do you know something's wrong?" you asked, voice thick. 

He snorted. "You're calling me at midnight on a live-music night when Malcolm's playing, and you didn't text me first. Something's wrong. You should be behind a bar lighting shots on fire. You sound like hell." 

You half-laughed and swiped at your face. "I- yeah, you're not wrong." 

"I know. Slugger, what's going on?" Shane's voice was hard and worried, and you bit your lip. 

"I gotta get back inside, but- no, I can't ask that of you," you backpedaled, banging your head lightly on the wall. Jason was drowning in there and you needed to go help him. "I'm sorry. Having a rough night, and I just wanted to talk to you."

There was silence on the other end except for a rustling sound. "I'm up. Be there when you get home. Slugger? Tell me you're ok or I'm coming straight to the damn bar. Fuck Malcolm's jealousy." 

"I'm dumping him tonight anyway," you muttered. "I'm ok. I just- I need my friend." 

Shane's voice was soft when he spoke again. "Go tend bar. I'll see you in a few hours, Ace. It's gonna be ok." 

Two and a half hours and one screaming match in the parking lot later, you trudged up the stairs and paused outside your door to take a deep breath. It wasn't that you were regretting calling Shane- because you wanted to see him desperately- it was that you just couldn’t handle one more fucking emotion today. And if you told him what was going on, there would be so many emotions. 

You opened your door and found the lights blessedly set to low- most of them off- and the soothing sounds of - 

You snorted. "Is that James Blunt?" you called as you closed the door. 

Shane laughed from the kitchen and the smell hit you. "Yeah, it is. Don't judge, it's your fucking music." 

You turned to him as your eyes started to fill, overwhelmed with a surge of intense gratitude. Here he was, in a hoodie and jeans and standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night with your feeling-down playlist on and the lights low, because you'd called him. "Are you cooking? In my apartment, at almost three am, after I woke you up and asked you to drive to Atlanta?" 

"Nah," he said casually, turning with two bowls loaded with chili in his hands. "I was cooking. Now I'm telling you to sit, lose the shoes, and eat." 

You sniffed and lost the battle with the tears. He set both bowls on the counter immediately, coming around to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his shoulder. He rubbed a soothing hand over your back and mumbled something you didn't listen to as you started to cry for real. 

"Jesus. You did have a day, didn't you?" he muttered into your ear. "Come on. Go sit, I'll bring the food. You'll cheer right up with some of Rick's chili. Man has a secret ingredient and he won't tell me what it is. Full confession: I wasn't cooking so much as heating. Chili's leftover from Rick and Lori's tonight." 

You half-laughed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." 

"Shut up and eat your chili."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Really.


	65. Lie #65: "You Have A Nice Day Now" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence

If his hand hadn't been broken when he punched the guardhouse after talking to Ace, it sure as shit was now, Shane thought tiredly. Hershel had cleaned and set a few stitches in his battered knuckles before wrapping the whole hand. Shane looked down at it now, wiggling his fingers just to feel the pain. Maybe if he hurt enough, he could keep her from any. 

That was ridiculous, he chided himself, and leaned against the chain link of the fence with his eyes closed. He couldn't take away pain for her, not from here; not while she was in the clutches of that monster who'd terrorized Maggie and let Glenn get the shit beaten out of him. 

He'd sworn he wouldn't let her get hurt anymore. He knew better, he thought as his stomach rolled. He leaned over and puked when Maggie in Glenn's shirt flashed into his mind; the rage in Glenn's eyes as he roared at Rick 'do you know what he did to her?' Shane didn't, not really, because Maggie wasn't saying. But he knew some of what had happened to Ace already, and he knew that look in Maggie's eyes. He could imagine, all too well, what was happening to his Slugger now. 

He had to find her. He had to, he thought wildly and swiped a hand over his mouth. 

Except, he couldn't. 

He gripped the fence and yelled in frustration, because there was nothing he could do. They were short two men- three, he growled, because Merle fucking Dixon would go to rescue his sister, at least; that much Shane believed of the man- and Rick had gone off the fucking deep end again. 

Shane had punched his friend in the face a couple times- part of the damage to his hand- after Rick had started waving a gun around the cell block and screaming at nothing. Tyreese, Sasha, and the other two- Shane didn't remember their names- hadn't had anything to do with Ace going missing, and it had seemed like Rick would welcome them. 

"We need the bodies," Shane had said grimly, and Rick had nodded. 

Then Rick's eyes had widened on the railing above Tyreese's head, he'd pulled the gun, and Glenn had yelled for Tyreese and company to leave as Shane started wrestling the Python from Rick's hands. Shane had gotten it, chucked it over his shoulder, and slammed his fist into Rick's face once or twice. Maybe three times. Then he'd screamed at Rick for losing it now, when Shane needed him; when Carl needed him; when their daughter needed him; when Ace needed him. 

Carl's eyes had been wide, his face white as a sheet, and Shane added that to the weight of things he felt guilty about. 

The door to the cell block clanged open and then closed, and Rick walked by Shane and down the path without a word. Shane watched as he paused, staring around at nothing, and then jerked. Rick was going for the gate, and Shane wanted to care. He did. 

But he didn't. 

He turned away from his friend and headed to the guard tower, looking for some fucking privacy to scream and rage and maybe break some more bones in peace. He didn't make it past the stairs, where he sank to the ground and leaned back against the wall, fear and a churning sense of utter failure leaving him weak. 

He'd failed her. He'd sworn to protect her; whispered promises in her ear while she slept that he'd known he couldn't keep. But he'd done it anyway, and the world- 

This fucking world had made a liar of him again. And she was paying the price. 

Jesus Christ, his Slugger was in the hands of someone who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her. She'd have bruises and maybe worse, he knew, like Maggie and Glenn. Like she had after Malcolm Hall had put her on the ground. Like she had when she'd stepped out of Daryl's truck and nearly collapsed. 

Daryl. 

Shane shoved to his feet and swiped a hand across the tears on his cheeks, clearing his eyes as grim determination settled over him. He'd find her brothers. That was something they could risk- one man to bring back two more? That was worth it. Especially since the two Dixon brothers were tough bastards, who would take the fight to the Governor at Shane's side. Merle knew how the man's mind worked; could provide inside information. 

Yeah, that was worth it, Shane decided. He shoved opened the door to the guard tower and started for the gate. 

He'd have to go on foot. He'd tell Hershel were he was going before he left, since the old man was at the fence talking to Rick. Shane figured he should do something about Rick, but he had no fucking idea what to do there. 

He saw the samurai climbing in and around the overturned bus and had the idea that maybe he'd take her as backup. She was tough as nails too, from the looks of her, and while she hated Merle, she certainly seemed to hate the Governor more. 

He was halfway down the path when the shooting started. 

Shane hit the deck, grabbing for his gun even as he rolled. There wasn’t anything resembling cover where he was, he thought wildly, so his best bet was to keep fucking moving. 

He kept rolling until the bullets stopped winging near him, then popped up his head up for a wild look around. Cars formed a half-circle near the gates, and the one eyed bastard and his posse were shooting the place up. 

Shane’s eyes narrowed with hate and he started to get up and end this now. 

An engine roared and Shane’s eyes shot to the gates. Thundering up the drive and showing exactly zero signs of stopping was a bread truck, and all Shane could do was stare in disbelief as it slammed through the gates and left them twisted hunks of useless metal. 

“Holy fuck,” he mumbled, and dove to the side as the truck shot straight toward him. 

Shooting started again as the driver bailed, but Shane decided getting his hands on a prisoner of their own was worth the risk. He got to his feet and ran for where the driver sprinted toward the back of the truck and hauled open the doors. 

“Shit!” Shane yelled when he saw the walkers inside. 

The driver paused and turned, and yanked the bandanna over the lower half of his face down. A walker passed between them, but all Shane could do was stare. 

Malcolm fucking Hall was right there. 

Malcolm fucking Hall was alive. 

Shane waited outside Malcolm fucking Hall’s apartment, leaning against the Grave Behavior van in his full uniform. The douchebag shoved open the door and came swinging his keys on his finger, only to draw up short at the sight of Shane. Shane waited, and Hall came cautiously closer. 

“What the hell do you want?” Malcolm asked, sneer firmly one place. 

Shane pushed off from the van and looked him over slowly. “You know, man, you’re one lucky bastard.” 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Because someone important to me seems to love you. Thing is, you put your hands on her. That stops,” Shane said, voice harsh. 

Malcolm snorted and started to step around him. Shane slapped one hand on the door of the asshole’s van and shook his head. 

“Did I say you could leave?”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “This is harassment.” 

“Nope. Not yet, anyway,” Shane shot back. He shifted, hooking his thumbs through his duty belt as he cocked his head to one side. “Now the way I see it, we both know you hit her so damn hard you knocked her clean out. Don’t fucking speak, asshole. And that-“ 

Shane shook his head. “I should kill you for that myself. If she said the word, I would. I said don’t speak,” he snapped when Malcolm opened his rat bastard mouth again. “I won’t because she’s not fucking done with you, even though you’re a piece of trash that ain’t worth her time. So you got two options, man. You leave her alone, or you spend the rest of your miserable life trying to make up for what you did to her. Or I’ll have something else to say. And it won’t be this friendly.” 

Shane patted the van and tipped his hat at Malcolm, like Rick did. “You have a nice day now.” 

He turned and walked away, and Malcolm fucking Hall spoke. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Officer.” 

Shane looked over his shoulder at the punk-ass, wanna-be bastard. “Why’s that? You gonna- you gonna report me? My word against yours, man.” 

Malcolm shook his head slowly. “Nope. But that someone you care about? You’re not around anymore to keep an eye on her, are you?” 

Shane was in Malcolm’s face and he didn’t remember moving. “You lay a hand on her, I’ll know. I’ll throw your ass in jail so fast your head’ll spin. Leave her alone, you asshole, and you might get to keep your face pretty for the cameras you wanna be in front of so damn bad.”

Malcolm sneered, but Shane stepped away again. 

“I hit back a hell of a lot harder than she does, man. Come find out any time,” he tossed over his shoulder, and started whistling as he walked away. 

Hall winked at him and ran, and Shane aimed at the bastard to put him down. 

“Shane!” 

Maggie’s scream ripped the air and Shane turned in time to see a goddamn walker inches from his fucking side. He yelled wordlessly as he fired, and by the time he turned back, Hall was gone. Walkers streamed from the back of the delivery truck as well as stumbling toward the broken gates. 

Shane dropped one and turned, suddenly realizing Rick was out there beyond the gates, and Hershel was down at the fence. Was Rick still alive? 

He was, but Shane didn’t have time to do anything to help his brother as walkers closed in on them both. Shane turned grimly to the business of keeping himself alive, with one thought echoing through his mind as he did. 

Malcolm fucking Hall was alive. 

And he had Ace.

Glenn pulled up in the pickup and grabbed Shane, Michonne, and Hershel. Shane pointed Glenn toward the gates, so he could go get Rick before the bastard couldn’t beat another walker to death with his gun. Before they got there, Ace’s fucking brothers came out of the trees in a well-timed rescue. 

Shane wanted to be grateful, but mostly he was just angry. 

Merle had been the Governor’s henchman, and he hadn’t killed the rapist bastard who’d hurt his sister? Shane slammed the truck door and helped Hershel out, passing him off to Maggie as Rick and the Dixons came up the path. 

“Merle! What the fuck?” Shane yelled, his fist colliding with Merle’s face. 

“Whoa, hey, Shane, c’mmon man,” Daryl said, grabbing Shane’s shoulder even as the older Dixon chuckled. 

Merle held up his hand and his stump with a grin. “Oh, you ain’t happy to see ya rescuers none, Deputy Walsh? My little sister ain’t gonna be too pleased to see ol’ Merle get beat up by her pig right aw-“ 

Shane hit him again, whirling when Daryl tried to hold him back. “Get the fuck off me, Dixon.” 

“Shane-“ Rick started slowly, but Shane wasn’t having this shit. Not anymore. 

“Malcolm fucking Hall!” 

Merle and Daryl both stopped moving. Daryl was suddenly up in Shane’s face, and Shane thought about punching him too. But Ace’s eyes flashed out at him from Daryl's suddenly pale face, full of the same rage eating up Shane’s soul right then. 

“What the fuck did ya just say?” Daryl asked coldly. “Malcolm Hall?” 

Shane bared his teeth in a twisted not-smile. “Malcolm fucking Hall was driving that truck. And we got back and your sister’s missing. Do the math, and tell me why that sack of shit you abandoned her for with didn’t kill him already.” 

Daryl’s eyes had gone wide, and he rounded on Merle himself. Shane crossed his arms and glared as Daryl stalked up to Merle, getting up in his brothers face like he had Shane’s. 

“Merle?” 

Merle looked pale and pissed, swallowing hard. “He ain’t in the Governor’s crew. I put a hit out on him before the dead rose. He ain’t living. Human dirtbag is dead.” 

Shane snorted. “Skinny, dark hair, blue eyes, beard. Cocky bastard.” 

Merle ran his hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s- That’s Anthony.” 

Shane scoffed, striding toward the cell block. He needed bigger guns. He brushed Rick off with a look and a jerk of his shoulder as went, pausing only to flick the brim of Carl’s hat and turn to Merle. 

“That’s his fucking middle name. I’m going to get your sister; you coming?”


	66. Lie #66: "I Don't Know. Guess You'll Have To Show Up At The Bar Again To Find Out" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence
> 
> *** implied/referenced rape/non con***  
**** physical abuse****

You stayed down when he walked away, crumpled in the floor at the foot of his bed. You thought about swiping at the blood on your lip, but you couldn’t be bothered enough to care. The coppery tang in your mouth was better than the taste of him lingering on your tongue anyway. 

The knock on the door had interrupted him and he’d let you slide bonelessly toward the floor. You stared at your hands and wondered if they’d stop shaking eventually. 

“Well?” The Governor asked. 

You didn’t lift your eyes, but you shivered. 

“She says there were twelve of them when they took the place, and they lost two but gained a couple of prisoners,” Malcolm said. "So minus her, there's eleven." 

Bastard sounded so pleased, you thought. So fucking pleased he’d managed to break you. You let your eyes close in exhaustion, craving the escape of oblivion. 

You’d given them up. Not right away; but you’d cracked. 

Mal was right; you were weak. You’d broken despite all your talk of loyalty, and now he and the governor were going to go to the prison and kill your friends. If anyone died, it was on you. 

And Shane would hate you. Not just for telling Mal your numbers, telling him how your group had taken the place and how Lori and T Dog had died. That, maybe, he could have forgiven- eventually. 

But Mal’s hand had cupped your bruised jaw to tilt your head up to him, and he'd wrapped his other hand around your throat and squeezed until you'd started to panic. Then he’d whispered a demand in your ear, lightening up the pressure, and the words had spilled out. They’d tumbled from your lips, tripping from your tongue and slurring as you rushed to get them out, so maybe it’d just end and he’d leave you in peace and not fucking kill you right here and now. 

“You’re the only one who loves me. I belong to you. I always have. I’m worthless without you, Mal; and I’m sorry. I love you.”

He’d stroked your throbbing cheek gently and smiled, tugging you to your feet and- 

“The other two already told us that, damn it." 

"There was more," Mal said slowly. "Most of it things we knew, and little of it helpful."

"Oh well. You did your best. Grab your gear and stash her in the warehouse. We’re paying that damn prison a visit.” 

You flinched. Your friends. Your brothers. Carl, the baby. Shane. 

You wished Mal would just fucking stab you again and put you out of your misery. 

“No need for the warehouse,” Mal said casually. His hand caressed your cheek and you didn’t move; not even when he ran his fingers over your lip and pushed them lightly into your mouth. 

You thought about biting them, but what was the point? He’d do what he wanted anyway, and you’d just get hit again. 

“She knows whose she is. I’ll lock the doors and she’ll be fine,” he added with a chuckle. 

The door clicked shut and locked, and you were alone in a room filled with silence. 

You curled around yourself when the shaking started and wouldn’t stop. “Shane,” you whispered. 

That was all it took, and you shattered again. 

There was a thunk and muttered cursing outside your bedroom door and you groaned. You shoved upright, glancing at the clock and scrubbing a hand across your face. Ten am, and- 

Oh yeah, that wasn’t Mal out there. You’d brought a customer home. Holy fuck. 

You thought about hiding, but you weren’t that kind of girl. Besides, you'd genuinely liked Shane as a person, and you weren't ashamed of anything you'd done. Just worried about what he thought about it. So you slid out of bed, shoved a hand through your hair, and went to face the music. 

“Morning,” you said casually, trying not to laugh. 

Shane looked grumpy and irritated, holding his foot and glaring at your air compressor like it had offended him. If he’d kicked it- which is what you deduced- it probably had. 

He glanced up at you and his glare softened into an almost smile. “Sorry, I was trying not to wake you.” 

You shrugged and headed for the coffee pot, already set up and waiting for the push of a button. “No worries. I’m usually up by now anyway. In a hurry?” 

You kept your tone deliberately light, because you didn’t know how to do this. The man had had his hands- and that mouth, currently frowning as he looked around at his scattered clothes mixed with yours and gathered them- all over you the night before and you hadn’t batted an eye. Now, though, with the morning after came expectations and talking. This was where you freaked out. 

Of course, he was probably as freaked as you were. It was a one night stand, and you both knew it. He was probably trying to figure out how to make sure you knew that as well. 

He glanced at the clock and hesitated. 

“No worries if you are; I was just going to offer you coffee. Go if you need to. I won’t be offended,” you reassured him. 

He flashed you a grateful smile. “I wish I could stay. I’m not trying to run away or anything, and I didn’t have plans for today originally. I got a call this morning, and my partner’s kid wants me to come over and help him out with some project for his class, and…” 

You waved him off with an easy smile. “Go! Help the kid.” 

Shane hesitated before stepping into the kitchen and over to you. He leaned in and kissed you lightly, before giving you a smile that made your heart race even as you wondered how many other girls he’d used it on. “You’re amazing,” he told you simply. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “God. Don’t worry, Deputy Dickhead; I don’t need a speech. We had fun, right? I’ll see you on the other side of the bar some time.” 

Shane shook his head, his expression surprised and pleased. “Naw, I mean it. And yeah, we did have fun. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure. I like your bar. Good service,” he added with a lazy wink. 

"Don't expect service like this every time you show up. Then again, Jason might be willing to take you home too," you shot back, relieved that he was joking the same as he had the night before. 

He snorted and tucked your hair behind your ear. "I don't know, Slugger. He look as good naked as you do, I might take him up on it. Seriously, this was- you're incredible." 

You rolled your eyes again. "Want your ego stroked or something? You're not so bad yourself and you know it." 

"Yeah, I know it." He flashed you a sly look when you cracked up, and kissed you again. "Alright, I gotta run. See you later, Slugger."

"Peace out, Dickhead."

"Are you really gonna call me that?" he asked, pausing at your door. 

You shrugged and filled a coffee mug. "I don't know. Guess you'll have to show up at the bar again to find out."

"You're asking for trouble, girl," he warned.

"At least I'm not asking for some bullshit drink... like, you know, a dickhead." You sipped your coffee and grinned at him as he cracked up helplessly.

You were still grinning when he was gone and you started putting your apartment to rights. 

The door opened slowly, and you didn’t bother to open your eyes. You refused to lay in the bed unless fucking forced, so you’d curled in the corner instead, propped up against the wall with your knees drawn to your chest. 

You weren’t ready for him to be back. You hadn’t- you hadn’t made a plan. You hadn’t even gotten to your feet, not to get dressed again or come to your corner. You’d fucking crawled, because that’s what Malcolm turned you into. Someone who crawled on her knees and betrayed her friends and her lover just to survive another minute. And for what? More of the pain and the humiliation you'd wanted to end in the first place?

You couldn’t do it again. If he was back; if he had killed anyone- 

If he’d killed Shane… 

You clenched your jaw against that thought because it should have been impossible. Someone like Mal was no fucking match for Shane, and if the goddamn dead couldn't kill your Dickhead, who could? But Malcolm wasn’t supposed to be alive and you weren’t supposed to be here, and if all this was happening- who knew? And you couldn’t stand Shane being dead. You couldn't live with that. 

“Ace?” 

It wasn’t Mal, it was Andrea. 

“What?” You asked, voice rusty and unrecognizable to yourself. 

Footsteps sounded, rounding the bed and pausing. “Jesus.” 

You forced your eyes open and she was staring at you in shock. You snorted and let them close again, too damn tired and in too damn much pain to deal with her right then. Besides, the worst of the damage wasn't visible. Hell, most of it wasn't even physical.

Her voice was determined. “Can you walk? I’m getting you out of here. I’m going to the prison. I’m going to talk to Rick. Philip- Philip must not know what Anthony’s doing.” 

You chuckled, but it wasn't fucking amused. “Malcolm. His name’s Malcolm. Malcolm Anthony Hall. He’s the asshole who put me in the hospital before all this, and Philip- if that’s your one eyed bastard boyfriend- knows exactly what he’s doing. He did some of it.” 

Andrea had a hand to her mouth and shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t- I cant believe that. I can’t.” 

You shrugged. “Believe whatever you want. Let me leave and I’ll call it square. Got a car?” 

She shook her head. “No, no car. But I have a way out. We’ll have to walk- and maybe fight.” 

You used the wall to stagger to your feet for the first time, wrapping one arm around yourself and trying to ignore the way your whole body throbbed. “Lets go. Your fucking Philip and Mal are attacking my family right now.”

Milton looked nervous when Andrea lead you him. "I thought you said just you." 

You flipped him off, eyes shifting anxiously around. The wall was being patrolled still and Andrea's plan of walking was going to be a son of a bitch considering your currently condition. But it wasn't like you had any better offers coming your way, damn it. 

Milton sighed an focused on her. "I can get you a lead pole and outside the wall, but that's it. And only one." 

She chewed on her lip and nodded. "We'll make it work." 

"This is your plan?" you asked her incredulously. "You want to grab a walker and cut its fucking arms and jaw off and walk it around? There's easier ways, you know." 

"Like what?" she asked. "This works. A friend showed me how, over the winter. Stick close and it'll protect you too." 

You snorted. "Like just coating yourself in its guts, for shit's sake. Why lead it around? All it takes is smelling like the dead. Here, fucking- got any rope?"

She shot you an incredulous look and you shrugged. "What? Daryl and Merle know shit. You were in Atlanta, you know the blood bath trick." 

"I don't have any rope. Come on, we're losing time and you're barely on your feet. Just stay close," she snapped, looking annoyed. 

You wanted to argue that, but you couldn't. You were barely on your feet, and there was a long-ass way to go to get back home. You gritted your teeth and grabbed a branch from the ground, leaning some of your weight onto it and trying not to think about the fact that even when you made it there, they might not want you. 

Because you'd betrayed them. 

"Fine, let's get a fucking walker," you muttered. "Yo! Ugly! Hey! I'm in shit mood, wanna come play?" 

The dead guy turned and started toward you, and waited as Andrea came in from the side and tackled it. You grimaced and got down to pin it when she shot you an irritated look, and you forced your battered body to do what you told it to and hold the thing down. 

She used a hatchet on the arms and you ended up with a nice spray of walker blood down your face and the side of your neck and all across your shirt. You scowled at her as she grabbed a rock. 

"Looks like I get to wear the blood anyway." 

"Shut up and lift its head," she snapped back. 

You did, and she curb stomped the thing until its jaw broke and hung loose. You rose and grabbed the hatchet, staggering toward a second walker and burying the hatchet between the eyes. 

Unfortunately that took the last of your strength and you fell roughly, landing on your back and trying your best to breathe. 

"You could have waited until I had this one on the line," Andrea said from behind you. 

You lifted one hand and pointed in her direction. "You know what? Fuck you, bitch. Your boyfriend smacked me around and turned me over to my abusive ex for him to get information. And he did, because Mal knows how to break me." 

"Philip wouldn't do that." 

You snorted in disbelief. "Woman, open your eyes and take a good look at me." 

Andrea was silent. "I am. That's why I'm helping you. I don't believe he knew." 

"Oh, whatever. You're just pissed that Shane turned you down," you muttered. 

"Is- Is Shane alive? Who all is?" she asked softly, leading the walker over to look down at you. 

You shrugged. "Shane was alive when Mal grabbed me. I don't know about now. I don't have any idea, since that asshole is attacking as we speak." 

She shook her head. "He wouldn't. He told me he wasn't going to retaliate. If he went, he went there to talk." 

You shrugged and started pulling yourself to your feet. "If you want to be delusional, that's your business. Just get me there, so I can tell them what I know."


	67. Lie #67: “Rash? It Ain’t Rash, Man” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence   
Cannon typical violence
> 
> Implied/referenced rape/non con  
Implied/referenced past domestic abuse/violence

Shane paced the courtyard restlessly, waiting for the fucking Dixons to get their shit together and get back out of the cell block so they could hit the road. He snarled and stabbed through the fence at a particularly obnoxious walker, some rotted fucker with bulging eyes trying to shove his way through the chain link to get to Shane. The thing dropped and he yanked his knife back, far from satisfied. Shane wanted, needed, to kill someone. One someone in particular, who he'd been needing to kill for longer than Shane was comfortable with. 

He decided the Dixons had exactly one more minute before Shane left on his own. 

It'd be just the three of them. Rick had made that clear, at top volume, while Shane raged back at his friend and considered driving his fist into the man's face a few more times, because apparently they were back to that kind of friendship again.

It wasn't that Rick wanted to abandon her to the man who'd put her in the hospital twice. Shane knew that, somewhere under the flaming asshole he was being right now. Rick was thinking of the good of the group; of preparing for another attack that was sure to come. Problem was, Shane didn't care about the good of the group. Shane cared about the good of one person above all else, and that person was currently- 

The cell door slammed open and Daryl's voice echoed from it, cursing falling from his lips as he raged at Rick now too. Merle was silent, much to Shane's surprise. The older Dixon had always been the louder, brasher, bigger asshole of the two, but now Daryl was fire and fury and noise while Merle slung a rifle over his back and ripped duct tape off with his teeth as he finished strapping a knife to his metal stump. 

Merle's eyes landed on the wings Ace had painted on the wall and he paused. Shane was shocked to see a faint smile move over Merle's lips, the barest hint of approval breaking through the grim, serious preparation. He hadn’t thought Merle even noticed her art, much less had any pride in her for it. 

Daryl stopped yelling at Rick, who followed the Dixons out looking harassed and regretful. Shane didn't fucking care. That was his Slugger, and Rick was asking him to leave her at the mercy of Malcolm fucking Hall for a second time. 

Shane was under no illusions about what was going on this time. 

"We fucking ready?" he snarled at the other two. 

Daryl glared at him and then at Rick. "Yeah, I guess we fuckin' are. Just us three, looks like, cause this asshole won't-" 

"We have to get ready; there's kids here and-" Rick started, and Daryl whipped back around. Shane opened his mouth to start yelling at them both, but Merle's whistle cut over the impending argument. 

"Every minute ya assholes spend yellin' at each other's a minute fuckin' wasted. Let's get this damn show on the road." 

Shane nodded once and stalked toward the gate. "Rick, open it. We'll manage." 

"Brother, don't do this rashly. Let's make a plan," Rick urged, setting his hand on Shane's shoulder. 

Shane shot him a glare, turning to knock Rick's hand off. "Rash? It ain't rash, man. It's Ace. He's got- he's got Ace, Rick." 

"I know," Rick said slowly, his stubborn bastard look in place as he pleaded with Shane. "I know he does, and we'll get her back. But we've- we've gotta think. We've gotta plan. We can't leave the prison undefended. It's a trap, man. You know that." 

Shane did know that. Rick was right, and Shane knew it. But he wasn't in the mood to be rational and he couldn't fucking wait. He shook his head, ready to speak, but Merle's voice cut through again. 

"Well holy shit. We got us some company, gentlemen," Merle drawled. 

Shane and Rick both whipped around, guns in hand and up before they saw what he was looking at. Shane stared, seeing Andrea at the outer gate with a walker on a lead pole. There was someone else with her too, someone who staggered and moved like every step hurt, and- 

"Get this damn gate open right the fuck now," he snapped, knife in hand as he headed toward it. "That's- that's Ace. That's Ace." 

It was Merle who grabbed Shane's shoulder this time, holding him back. Shane stared, but Merle's eyes were scanning the trees beyond the fences. 

"Hold up now, Deputy. The Governor's got a few tricks up them sleeves of his, an' ol' Merle knows a lot of 'em. This smacks strongly of one. Let them come to us." Merle said in a low voice. "Officer Friendly, get you a sniper up on that perch." 

Shane's heart was pounding so fucking hard he could hear the roar of blood in his ears as a walker stared at Ace and she acted like she didn't even notice. She stumbled and Andrea reached out a hand to steady her, and Ace- 

Ace flinched away and Shane snarled. 

"Goddamn it," he whispered, eyes tracking to the trees, because he knew Merle was right. 

Daryl had gone into the cell block, and he heard the door open again. Shane didn't bother to look, because trap or no trap, he couldn't take his eyes off his Slugger. 

She moved around another walker, who barely spared her a glance, staggering a little as her foot hooked on a dip in the ground. This time Andrea did grab her, and Ace jerked away as soon as she had her footing. 

His girl had a death grip on a knife with one hand, Shane noticed, with the other arm wrapped tightly around herself. She had blood all over her shirt, something huge that hung off her shoulders and down to mid-thigh like a damn tent, and baggy jeans that weren't hers either. She didn't have her belt or her holster, and Shane could feel his hands clenched tightly into fists as he waited for them to get closer. 

He couldn't see her face, because she stared at the ground, but Shane knew she was hurt. He just didn't know how bad. Would it be like the Lullaby, or like when she'd come out of Daryl's truck? Would it be no physical damage, and only the psychological? 

Shane had no illusions about what that bastard would have done to her. The Governor had done something to Maggie. Malcolm fucking Hall would have- 

Shane cut that off with a snarl and headed for the gate as Andrea looked up and saw them. 

"Open up," she called, not too loudly. "Please. Ace-" 

Rick grabbed Shane's shoulder. "Are you alone?" 

"Are you kidding me?" Shane snarled, and snatched the keys off Rick's belt. 

"Damn it, Shane," Rick snapped back, but he covered the gate as Andrea released the walker she led and started to usher Ace through. 

Shane darted forward and kicked a walker back as Daryl slid the gate closed behind them. Rick had Andrea against the fence, patting her down roughly as he snarled more questions. She stammered out answers as Rick pushed her to her knees, but Shane didn't fucking care. 

He went to Ace as soon as the gate was closed. 

"Slugger?" he asked, heart in his throat as he moved toward her slowly. 

Her shoulders hunched and she didn't look up, still staring at the ground with her hair falling in a curtain around her face. Shane's jaw clenched when he saw the way the knife she still held rattled as her hands shook. 

"Ace," he whispered, reaching a hand to her. He needed to see her face, her eyes. He fought the urge to scoop her into his arms and run his hands over her body to see how bad it was. He fought the urge to crush her to him until his own pounding fear faded and he was certain she was here, back here with him where he could keep her safe. 

She swayed on her feet, pulling away from Shane's hand as Rick hauled Andrea back up. 

"Welcome back," Rick snarled at Andrea. "Shane, we need to get everyone inside." 

Shane took another step toward Ace and she fucking flinched, jerking away from him with a sharp inhale that had Shane freezing in place. He drew in a breath of his own, slow and steady, and fought with the black tide that almost sent him out the gates to retake the yard singlehandedly. Daryl's hand gripped Shane's shoulder hard, and Shane met angry blue eyes that held his with sympathetic warning.

Shane nodded once and Daryl let him go, and Ace moved forward when Rick shoved Andrea in the direction of the door. Shane followed her, close enough he could catch her if she collapsed like she seemed right on the edge of doing but not so close to make her flinch again. 

He could do this, he told himself. He had the training, and it was Slugger. He'd take care of her, and he wouldn't take it personally. She'd been traumatized all the hell and back, and he didn't know the extend of it yet. She wasn't afraid of him, she was just- she was just afraid. 

She didn't even look at Merle when she passed him, and Merle's face was a stony mask as his eyes followed her.

Inside, their people filled the common room. Shane glanced around and noticed Beth and baby Judith- Carl had named her after his favorite teacher, and Shane didn't mind a bit- weren't there. From the way Maggie and Glenn leaned against the cell door, Shane figured they'd locked them in. 

No one trusted Andrea, it seemed. Not even Michonne, who watched Andrea with hard eyes and looked pained when she saw Ace leaning heavily against the wall as she made her way down the few stairs. 

Andrea looked around wildly at everyone's faces, then reached a hand toward Ace. Ace's head came up then and she brushed Andrea's hand away. 

Carol gasped, and Shane wondered how bad his girl looked to make Carol's face shut down like that. 

Maggie moved toward Ace, but Shane shook his head at her in warning and Maggie stopped where she was. Then Ace turned Rick and Shane got his first glance at her. 

He went cold and all the breath left his lungs. 

Her lip was split and bleeding slightly even now, and that was the easiest for him to handle. Her jaw was a mass of livid colors and swollen, and Shane wondered if it was broken. He knew her orbital bone was at least cracked, from the way it looked and the way her eye didn't move entirely correctly as she glanced around rapidly before letting her eyes settle on Rick. 

There was a fucking bruise around her throat that made his own throat close and nausea churn in him. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered as Rick took a half step toward her. She backed up, her eyes going to toward the floor as she swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry. I told- I told him- I told him… things." 

That did it. Shane took two long, rapid steps toward her and grabbed her shoulders before he thought. "Don't," he snapped as he did, and froze in instant regret. 

She flinched away, her eyes wide and unfocused and darting all around the room. Shane's hands dropped from her immediately and he scrubbed them over his face, swallowing back the bile rising in his throat. He softened his voice and stepped back a bit from her as she hunched in on herself again. 

"Slugger, don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. You stayed alive," he whispered, echoing what she'd told him on the farm, after Otis. "You stayed alive and came back to me."

She made a pained sound and her hands covered her face, shoulders shaking as she choked back tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Shane, I- I'm so sorry," she started mumbling over and over. 

Shane didn't think his heart could break more than it already had, but he was fucking wrong. "Slugger, what-" he reached for her again and she backed up rapidly. 

"Don't, Shane, don't- you don't know what- I'm so fuckin' sorry, I-" 

Suddenly she was hyperventilating, and when Shane tried to touch her again, his own panic rising up in him at his girl so fucking devastated, she lashed out and slapped his hand away. Shane froze again, not knowing what the fuck to do, and looked wildly toward the only person he thought might have a clue. 

Rick looked just as shocked and baffled as Shane himself, though, and the irrational idiot in charge of Shane's brain figured if Rick didn't know there wasn't anything that could be done. He shoved a hand through his hair and started to try again, but Daryl grabbed his arm and moved him away. 

"We got her, man," Daryl muttered to him. "Give us a minute." 

He stepped in front of his sister and Merle joined him, Daryl speaking in a low voice as the two of them slowly herded her toward the door to the cells without touching her. She went with them, tears spilling over her cheeks as she kept fucking apologizing over and over and over, and Daryl held up a hand and shot Shane a sympathetic glance as Glenn closed and locked the gate behind him. 

There was silence in the common area when they were gone, and Shane turned slowly toward Andrea. 

She stood with her hands pressed to her cheeks, biting her lower lip and looking pained. Shane stared at her and her eyes flicked to his. 

She lowered her hands slowly and she started to smile. "Hi, Shane," she said softly, and- 

Well, Shane snapped. He was in her face and yelling, Rick grabbing for him and Shane shaking him off. "Hi? That's what you've fuckin' got to say?" 

Ace's mumbling, panicked voice filled his ears and her battered face filled his mind, and this woman had been fucking the enemy. Malcolm fucking Hall had done that to his girl, Shane knew, but Andrea was shacking up with the man who'd kept Malcolm Hall alive. 

"What the hell did he do to my Ace?" Shane yelled. 

Andrea shook her head, eyes wide and tear filled. "I don't- I don’t know. She said it was her ex. He went by Anthony. I didn't know, but I got her out of there. Philip said he wouldn't retaliate, but I knew-" 

Shane started laughing. "Philip your fucking Governor? Cause he sure as hell retaliated," he spat.

"We had the courtyard and the field before he attacked," Rick put in, coming to Shane's elbow with hard eyes. 

"Plus he killed an inmate we met here. We liked him; he was one of us," Daryl put in from the cell door. "Shane, Merle's with her. She's out fuckin' cold, man." 

Shane glanced at him and nodded, grateful. Then Andrea opened her stupid mouth again. 

"Philip wouldn't-" 

Shane rounded on her. "Philip wouldn't what? Huh?" he snapped. "Wouldn't kidnap and torture people for information? Wouldn't leave Ace in the hands of man who terrorized and fucking raped her before the goddamn world ended? Wouldn't what, Andrea?" 

Andrea backed away from him and Rick got between him and her. "Brother, get control," Rick snapped. "Get it together. We need information." 

Shane glared beyond Rick at Andrea, who'd taken a long step back and now glanced around the room at a sea of stony faces. 

"I came as soon as I could. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot out," she said, looking at Maggie and Glenn. 

Shane scoffed. "You were in the arena. You saw Daryl." 

"Daryl, yes. I didn't know about Maggie and Glenn," she insisted, then turned to Michonne angrily. "What have you told them?" 

Michonne shrugged. "Nothing." 

"I don't get it," Andrea said slowly, glancing around the group. "I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out? I brought her back!" 

Shane lunged and Rick grabbed him, forcing him back and toward the cell door as Andrea jumped. Shane snarled and tried to get around Rick, but Rick got that stubborn bastard look and crowded Shane back. When Daryl got in on it, Shane's glare shifted to encompass him as well. 

"Let me fucking go!" he snarled. 

Rick shook his head, but his eyes were hard and pissed. "Can't do that. She might be able to help us get to them. Go check on Ace, brother. Go." 

"Rick-" 

"She needs you," Rick said quietly. 

Shane's eyes closed and he sucked in a breath. "She won't let me touch her, man." 

"That's not 'cause of you and ya fuckin' know it," Daryl snarled. "Rick, handle the bitch. I got this." 

Rick pulled Shane into a sudden hug, then turned back to Andrea. Glenn opened the cell door and Daryl pointed Shane through it with a stubborn look in his eyes, not moving until Shane shoved a hand through his hair and turned on his heel. 

Dixon grabbed his arm as the door clanged shut again, and Shane shot him a hot glare. Dixon glared right back, but he pitched his voice low as he snapped at Shane. 

"Ya know. She told ya some of it, so ya know. Ya think it ain't gonna be a thousand times worse? My sister, she blames her fuckin' self for everything. She thinks ya gonna hate her for what she did to survive." Barely contained rage simmered in Daryl's eyes, and for some reason it cooled some of Shane's own. 

He wasn't the only one who cared about her. He wasn't the only one who wanted to rend and tear and kill over the look on her face and the terror in her voice. Shane sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. 

"How bad is she, man?" he whispered. "Did she- did she tell you anything?" 

Daryl shook his head, his hand on Shane's arm turning into comfort instead of restraint. "Naw. She didn't say nothin' but that she was sorry, and she knew you'd hate her. I got eyes though. It was bad." 

Shane snorted. "No shit. Where'd you take her?" 

Daryl nodded toward the second level. "My cell. Started toward yours an' she flipped harder." 

The knife in Shane's guts twisted, but he nodded. Daryl clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a shove in the direction of the cells. Shane started to go, but stopped short and turned halfway back to Daryl. 

"Dixon," he said quietly. 

Daryl looked at him, eyebrows up, as Andrea's voice rose in annoyance from the common room. Shane didn't spare a glance at that, just met Daryl's eyes. 

"I’m in love with your sister." 

Daryl snorted. "What, think I'm a fuckin' moron? Tell her, ya idiot. Fuckin' hell," he muttered, shaking his head as he started for the common room. "Send Merle out." 

Shane almost smiled, shoving a hand through his hair again as he started for the stairs. If she'd ever let him, he'd tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still sorry. Really.


	68. Lie #68: “We weren’t-“ - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence  
Rape non/con  
Domestic abuse/violence

Shane sat in his Jeep and stared at the doors to the Whiskey Lullaby, working up the courage to get out and go in. He didn't see her car, but he wasn't really surprised. It was early still, if she was even working today. Thursdays had been her nights before, but Shane wouldn't have put it past her to have switched them up just to fuck with him.

He hopped out and headed toward the doors, but before he got there they swung open. Jason stepped out, closed the door, and leaned against it. 

Shane stopped short and looked at him. "So that's how it is now." 

Jason sighed. "Look, man, if it was my call, I'd sit both of you down in the corner and make you talk to each other. But it's not my call." 

"Yeah," Shane shoved his hand through his hair and looked away. "I- she ok?" 

Jason made a face. "She won't talk to any of us. Stitches are out and the bruise is gone. She, ah…" 

Jason trailed into silence and looked at the ground, a look of disgusted anger on his face that had Shane's heart pounding. 

"She took that bastard back," he said flatly. "Goddamn it." 

"Yeah, that's how we all feel," Jason agreed, meeting Shane's eyes. "He's banned from here too. Grave Behavior was fired. Ellie and Ben ordered him out the one time he tried to come, and Ellie said if she ever saw him again she'd fucking cut his balls off. She would too." 

Shane's face contorted into something vaguely adjacent to humor. "Hope she does it." 

"Me too," Jason muttered. "I wish I could tell you more, man. You- Look, I'm gonna tell you something, and you can do with it what you want. I've never seen her happy like when she's been hanging out with you. I've known her for years; we've worked that bar together for close to a decade. She's always sweet and lively and feisty as shit. But you brought something else out in her. Don't give up." 

Shane's eyes swam and he looked away. "We weren't-" 

"Yeah, but you fucking should be," Jason said with a roll of his eyes. "It doesn't matter, man. Even as her friend, she needs you. Don't give up on her, or I'll come after you myself. Now get out of here before she gets here and it gets worse." 

Shane shoved his hands in his pockets and started to turn away. "Hey, Jason?" he called over his shoulder. 

Jason paused at the door, and Shane met his eyes. 

"Thanks. Keep an eye on her for me, and- I don't know, if she'll listen, tell her I said I'm here." 

Jason nodded, and Shane shoved his hand through his hair and went back to his Jeep.

He hesitated just before he got to Dixon's cell, taking a deep breath and trying to achieve some like calm or peace before he went in there and saw her again. He didn't think he did a good job, but there was nothing for it. 

Now that he was this close, he had to see her again. 

Merle leaned against the wall, but Shane’s eyes went straight to his girl, curled in a ball on the bunk with one hand stretched toward her brother. Jesus, she looked so fucking fragile, he thought wildly. 

Any calm he’d gotten a moment ago evaporated into an urgent need to run his fingers through her hair, to brush his lips across every bruise and mark and maybe take the pain away. 

Merle stirred against the wall as Shane stood frozen in the doorway. “I didn’t know who he was. I never saw the bastard, before.” 

Shane tore his eyes from Slugger to look at Merle in surprise. The gruff bastards voice was thick with emotion Shane hadn’t expected from him, and the knuckles of his remaining hand were white where his fist clenched. 

Merle met his eyes. “I ain’t ya biggest fan, ya pig asshole.” 

Shane snorted.

Merle cracked a crooked grin. “I ain’t made no secret of that shit huh? And I ain’t a good man. I put a hit on this asshole before them biters started risin’ and I hadn’t seen his fuckin’ face. I wouldn’t have let him fuckin’ live if I’d known. See, I don’t like ya- but ya like my lil sister here, and I can respect that. She likes ya back, from what Darylina says. So you sit ya ass right there an’ ya be there for her when she wakes up.” 

Shane didn’t really know what to say to that speech, but it didn’t look like the older Dixon needed a response. He shoved from the wall and bumped Shane’s shoulder with his as he passed. A flash of annoyance shot through Shane since he knew damn well that was deliberate. 

He sighed again and moved further into the room, sliding down the wall to sit where he could stare at her face. He supposed that was as close as he was going to get to touching her and he tried to take comfort from the fact that she was here. She was back where he could watch over her. 

He just wished he was fucking better at it. 

“Shit, Slugger,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry. I said- I said I’d keep you safe, and-" 

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sniffed, drawing in a ragged breath. He tipped his head back against the wall, eyes still closed, and contemplated praying. 

“Shane?” 

He snapped his eyes open to find her looking at him from the swollen and battered side of her face. He slid forward instantly, forgetting himself for a minute. Then he stopped, going still as he smiled at her through the tears blurring his vision. 

“Hey, Slugger,” he said softly, locking his hands together to keep from stroking his fingers over her cheek or her hair or her arm. “How you feeling, sweetheart?” 

She bit her lip and looked away from him, and Shane’s heart twisted. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop that,” he insisted gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes. “You don’t know.” 

Shane paused. He wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but he knew his girl. “So tell me,” he said simply.

She curled around herself tighter, looking so lost and broken Shane could practically feel the need to hit something starting as a ball of heat in his chest. She opened her mouth a couple of times, looking for words. 

“I- I- you’ll hate me. I’m so sorry,” she whispered finally. 

Shane couldn’t take it anymore. He reached for her hand, slowly, so she could pull away if she needed to. Her eyes widened and she stilled, but she didn’t move when Shane’s fingers brushed hers. 

Something coiled tight and terrified inside him relaxed a fraction. She was letting him touch her. That was a good sign, he told himself firmly. It was. 

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, sweetheart?” he asked, trying for their usual playfulness. It came out twisted but it was there, and that’s what he’d wanted. 

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and spoke in a voice so soft Shane almost didn’t hear her. “He- he- I told him things. Not just about- about us, our numbers. I told him- I told him I was his. I told him I loved him and I was nothing without him. I told him anything he wanted to hear, Shane, just to make it end even when I knew it wouldn’t. I- I’m so sorry. He- I- I did- I did things, too,” she stammered out, pulling her hand back from his as her eyes shifted all around. “And it doesn’t matter that I didn’t want- I fuckin’ hate him. I still did it, and I know- I know what that makes me-" 

Shane scooped her up without thinking, pulling her into his lap and holding her close. She stiffened and let out a tiny, terrified squeak that had him cursing himself for a goddamn fool immediately. He started to let her go again and apologize, but-

She fucking melted. She collapsed into him, her hands locking on his shirt like the day Ed had hit her, and a high-pitched, pained noise slid from her that Shane never fucking wanted to hear again. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed like she was being torn apart, and the tremor in her hands hadn't gone away. 

Shane sat paralyzed for a beat, trying to figure out what the hell to do. But fuck it; this was Slugger. This was his girl. He wrapped his arms back around her and shifted to lean against the bed, stroking her back and her hair and mumbling whatever crossed his mind as he tried to weather the storm with her. 

“Slugger, sweetheart, don’t you fucking apologize. You did what you had to and I don’t hate you. How the hell could I? For- for that? No. I fucking love the shit out of you Ace; I needed you to come back to me and you did. You're so goddamn strong; you survived, baby. You're out of there. It’s ok; I’m here; I’ve got you. That’s it, just hang on to me and let it all out. I got you, and he’s a dead man. He’s a dead man, Ace; I swear that to you on anything you consider fucking holy.” 

She clung to him even after she stopped crying, her whole body still trembling. Shane kept rubbing her back because she hadn't asked him to stop or pulled away, and his contact with her was the only thing keeping him from walking over to Woodbury and killing every last motherfucker in the place. 

He could guess what kind of 'things' Malcolm had made her do. 

And she was blaming herself. Because of course she was, he thought in complete disgust. Because Ace believed she was the problem, when she was the fucking solution. Shane's solution, anyway. 

He wasn't making sense and he knew it, but he let his thoughts keep rambling so maybe he wouldn't focus too hard on how she shook and the death grip she had on his shirt. Or on the fact that somewhere in all the babbling he'd done to her as she cried, he'd told her he loved her. 

This was not how he'd planned on that. Shane was goddamn good at romance, damn it, and this was as far from fucking romantic as it got. He'd blown it again, damn it. 

Maybe she hadn't noticed. After all, she was having a bit of a breakdown at the time, so why would she have? 

She stirred slightly in his arms and Shane's focus snapped back to her. He relaxed his grip on her so she could move away if she wanted, but if anything she just curled into him tighter. He looked down at her head on his chest, waiting to see what her next move was. 

"Did you mean it?" she asked in an exhausted, raw voice. She shifted slightly so she could look up at him, the battered left side of her face making him ache along with the haunted and broken look in her eyes.

He gave up and ran his fingertips lightly over her cheek and she went tense enough for him to pull back. She followed his fingers, leaning into them when he broke contact, and Shane's heart skipped an actual goddamn beat at that. "Did I mean what, sweetheart?" 

Her eyes closed as he traced her lip and the swelling on her jaw, and she swallowed. "All of it. Any of it. I- Do- do you hate me? For letting him-" 

"Slugger, stop," he snapped, harsher than he'd intended. Her eyes popped open wide and she tensed again, but she relaxed as soon as she saw his face. He sighed and closed his eyes. 

"Sorry. Ace, you didn't- you didn't 'let' him do anything. Nothing that happened is your fault. There's not a damn thing you did wrong, so what the hell would I hate you for?" he continued, voice heating again as he spoke. 

When he opened his eyes, she wasn't looking at him again. She shook her head and Shane moved to cup her cheek. 

"You don't- you don't know. You don't know what I did." 

"Yes, I do," he said, voice firm. "Ace, look at me. Come on, my girl, please." 

She shivered again, and Shane hurt all the more at the way it seemed to cause her actual physical pain to raise her eyes to his. He waited until she had those Dixon blues firmly on his before he said anything else. 

"I know exactly what you did, Slugger. You survived, and you came back to me. What was it you said? After Otis, when I was- when I was bein' an asshole?" Shane chuckled slightly and thanked every god he could think of when her lips twitched upward, just barely. "'I don't care what it takes'." 

Shane stroked her cheek again as his own voice cracked with the fear he'd felt flooding him since the moment Carl had said his name in the courtyard. "I don't care what he forced you to do, Slugger, because that's what it was- force. I don't care what you said or what you told him. You did what you had to do and you got your ass back to me, and that's all that matters. Ok? That's all I fucking care about, is having you right here in my arms where you're supposed to be." 

She was crying again, the tears welling up and spilling soundlessly from her eyes, and Shane didn't fucking know which was worse, this or the sobbing. 

"How can- I fucking- I fucking blew him again. And- and let him-" she stammered, eyes shifting away from him as the words fell rapidly. 

Shane's hand on her back clenched into a fist against his will and she stiffened, but it was like once she'd said that first awful thing the rest were coming out no matter what. 

"I let him fuck me again, Shane, and I told him I was his but I'm fuckin' not, an' I- I told him I didn't love anyone but him- I didn't- God, he gets in my fuckin' head and just twists me all up an' the next thing I know he's tellin' me to beg him and I don't and then he- he fuckin' hit me so hard I blacked out. And then it's worse; he doesn't just want me beg him to stop, he wants me to- to say all this shit, an’ the Governor had already smacked me around some an’ I couldn't take it anymore. So I fuckin’ crawled for him, cause I couldn't- I'd forgotten," she trailed off into a whisper as Shane's mind spun with all the information she'd just dropped on him. 

He licked his lips and said the only thing he could trust himself to comment on. "Forgotten what?"

She met his eyes again, and something that looked like his Ace, the tough, incredible woman she was with him, showed through. "What it's like to get hit like that. I'd forgotten how much it fucking hurts, and how fucking small it makes you feel." 

Then her face crumbled again, twisting as she started to slide away from him. "And I broke under it, Shane. I broke, and I know you can't- I know you'll never forgive me for that." 

Shane made a snap decision and didn't let her go; tightening his hold instead. "You didn't break," he said harshly. "Slugger. You didn't fucking break. You took a beating and- and so much worse, and you survived. You got out alive. That's not breaking." 

She shook her head, looking down at her hands still twisting in his shirt. "I might not have told them anything they didn't already know about this place, but I- I betrayed you." 

"Fuck that shit. How?" he exploded. "How?" 

"How?" she sounded bewildered. "By- by doing- by saying-" 

"By being raped? Jesus, Slugger, what kind of man do you take me for? You think I'd take one look at you and assume you'd agreed to anything that happened? You've got a fucking choke line around your neck!" Shane didn't know when he'd tripped from trying so damn hard not to scare her more to letting her see how fucking pissed he was, but he had. 

Red rage was boiling in him at the thought of her fucking blaming herself for any of it, and thinking he'd blame her- 

Fuck that. She needed to know better, and soft-pedaling never reached either of them anyway.

She stared at him, eyes wide with shocked surprise. "No, I- That's not-" 

"Yeah, it fuckin' is. That's what you're saying with this shit. So stop apologizing and accept that it's all the fault of that rapist, abusive bastard. And hear this, Ace- I fucking mean it. He's a goddamn dead man, and it ain't gonna be fast. It's gonna be slow and it's gonna hurt," Shane snarled, and he watched something flicker in her eyes as she bit her lip and didn't look away from the temper in his. 

He was so fucking proud of her. She was so goddamn strong. 

"He's gonna feel every bit of what you fuckin' feel right now, Slugger. No one touches the woman I love and gets away with it. And he's put his fucking hands on you so many-" 

Ace blinked as Shane's jaw snapped closed, and he ran a hand over his face in utter disbelief that he'd fucking said that again. 

“I- shit. Ace, this isn’t- I’m-" 

Shane froze, his eyes shooting open again as the stammered half-explanation came to a screeching halt at the brush of her lips on his. He stared, not knowing what the hell to think, and she was- 

She was smiling at him. It was small, her eyes were still haunted, but she was smiling. 

Shane’s lips curved in instant response and he laughed at himself, ducking his head. He could feel himself blushing, embarrassed at just blurting it out like that. Like he had no fucking game. 

Then again, he never had when it came to her.

Ace touched his chin with fingers that were still trembling, and Shane looked up at her immediately. 

“Shane,” she whispered, her voice breaking again and a spark of something Shane thought was hope in her eyes. “Do- do you-“

“Ace Dixon, I love you.” 

He said it firmly, no hesitation, looking her dead in the eyes. “I love you so much it fucking hurts. I’ve loved you for so long I can’t remember not loving you, and I’ve never been as fucking scared as I have been since-“

Shane had to look away and get control again, and he turned back to her and let her see the ragged, naked truth of it all. “I love you, Slugger,” he said simply. 

Ace's face went through a series of contortions before she burst into tears again. Shane only had a second to panic, though, before she let out a strangled sound and pressed her lips against his again. 

It was his turn to have a gasp ripped from him as he pulled her closer, one hand winding into her hair as he kissed her back, needy and urgent. He'd been so fucking scared, and she'd been so goddamn wrecked, and now she was in his arms where she belonged, and- 

She yelped and he let her go immediately.

"Oh, fucking hell," she mumbled, her face pale as she pressed a hand to her ribs. "That's- yeah, pretty sure that bitch is cracked, at least. Goddamn." 

"Ace, how bad are you-" Shane started, and she glared at him. 

"Shut up," she snapped, and she sounded so much like herself that Shane did as he was told with a smile on his face. 

Her expression softened and she ran her fingertips down his cheek. "I love you, Dickhead," she whispered. 

Shane caught her hand in his and pressed his lips to her palm, not having words to even begin to tell her what this right here meant to him. 

So instead of trying, he shot her an amused look as he gently drew her back against him. "You really need a new pet name for me, sweetheart." 

Her laugh, pained and rough as it was, was the best thing he'd ever heard.


	69. Lie #69: "I Can't Be That Bad. No One Stabbed Me This Time" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of rape/non con  
domestic abuse/violence  
past child abuse

Shane’s chest was warm under your cheek and his pulse in the silence was almost enough to forget that your whole fucking body hurt and you still hadn’t stopped shaking. You shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, and realized you were cold. The tremor got worse as you shivered, hard, and Shane’s arms tightened. 

“You’re cold,” he whispered. 

You shrugged. “A little. I think- I think it’s just the trauma though.” 

Shane snarled and shifted you around so you were cradled in his arms as he stood up. You squeaked in protest and grabbed at him, wrapping an arm around his neck and then hissing as that put pressure against the rib you were pretty sure you’d broken. 

It was the squeak that pissed you off and embarrassed you though. Goddamn it, you were tough, and all you’d been doing since Shane reached for you at the gate was melt down and flinch like- like one of his domestic violence calls. 

Shit. He wasn’t going to let you do shit for yourself after this, you thought with mild despair. If you thought he'd been bad at the camp in Atlanta, he was about to be a whole damn lot worse. He wasn't even letting you walk for yourself.

Of course, he was carrying you effortlessly out of Daryl’s cell and toward the stairs, like you weighted nothing. You smiled slightly and decided you honestly wouldn’t mind, if it all felt as good as this. Made you feel as fucking safe and secure as this. 

He didn’t hate you. He- he loved you. 

After hearing what you’d said; what you’d done, he loved you. 

You felt like you had fucking whiplash, so you closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat and his mumbled string of complaints about stubborn damn fool Dixons and needing to see a fucking doctor before blaming yourself for shit. You honesty weren’t sure if he knew he was talking, not until you giggled at one particularly annoyed and creative curse after you hissed as he took the first step. 

He paused, and his tone was a hell of a lot softer. “Well, you are. Stubborn woman. You're gonna let Hershel check you out and you’re gonna do what he fucking says, hear me?” 

You grunted in response, more acknowledgement than agreement. You weren’t committing to that. There were things you had to do. You had to talk to Rick before you collapsed or melted down again- because you were going to, and you knew it. 

This love-confession-fueled euphoria wouldn’t last. There was another freak out around the corner, and most likely quite a few after that. 

Beth stepped out from her cell, holding Shane's daughter and looking concerned. "Ace? Are you-" 

You gave her a small smile. "I'm fine, Beth. How's the baby?" 

"You are not fine, woman. Have you seen you? Shit. She needs your dad, Beth, but she'll be ok." Shane's voice was a combination of irritated concern that you'd heard more times than you could count, and you felt the smile widen as his tone rumbled to you from your head on his chest. 

"Oh, come on. I can't be that bad. No one stabbed me this time," you joked, and then winced when Shane growled and Beth's eyes went wide at the sound. 

Shane tightened his arms around you and you looked up at the hard set of his jaw. You ghosted a kiss across it, your fingers sliding up his neck to his hair. 

"Sorry," you whispered. "Bad joke. It's a Dixon trait. Ask Daryl about the time I punched him over one. It wasn't as long ago as you might think." 

Shane glanced down at you from the corner of his eye and scoffed. "Yeah, that don't surprise me like you seem to think it should. Beth, you keep Judith back here for awhile longer, ok? From the sounds of it, they're done yelling at Andrea, but I don't know what Rick's thinking, and I don't fucking trust her. She's been sleeping with the enemy." 

You winced, thinking that she hadn't been the only one, but you didn't want Shane to keep yelling at you. You hadn't meant to insult him with your apologies. You just wanted him to know how fucking sorry you were- for everything. 

"Judith?" you asked as Shane started moving again. It came out more strained than you wanted- the goddamn rib really hurt, and so did your face- but you watched as Shane's jaw relaxed and his whole face softened. 

"Carl named her after his favorite teacher." 

You couldn't help but smile at that as well, as Shane ducked into the cell you shared. He loved Carl like his own, and seeing Shane's face fill with love for his baby girl eased the renewed sting that you wouldn't see it over a child you gave him. 

What the fuck? Where the hell had that thought come from? You didn't even want kids. You didn't- 

Shane set you down gently. "I'm getting Hershel." 

"I'm right here. Well, Miss Dixon," the old man said from the doorway. "I do believe I've seen you look better." 

You snorted and rolled one eye, because the other one hurt too much for that. "It probably won't make anyone feel any better, but I've looked a hell of a lot worse." 

"I ain't so sure about that, Slugger," Shane muttered, eyes going dark and pissed again as he crossed his arms and leaned on the wall, making room for Hershel to sit beside you on the bed. 

You stuck your tongue out at him. "You didn't see me in the hospital. I'm serious, he didn't stab me this time so I automatically look better. Trust me." 

"Can ya not use that shit as a yardstick, sis? Cause I did see ya in the hospital, and ya pretty damn close," Daryl said from the doorway, voice pained. 

You glared at him. "I'm pissed at you." 

"Yeah? Why?" 

"I don’t know. I’m sure I had a reason,” you mumbled after a minute, and everyone cracked up. “Maybe it wasn’t you,” you said dryly as Hershel tipped your chin up and looked at your cheek. “Maybe it’s my other idiot brother.” 

Shane snorted. "Yeah, him you're probably pissed at."

"Where is he, by the way?" you asked, then hissed when Hershel prodded gently at your cheekbone just under your eye. "Oh, settle down, Shane." 

Shane had come off the wall at your hiss and shot you a glare while Daryl laughed softly. "Sorry, sweetheart, but that isn't a noise I like hearing from you." 

"Shit, Walsh, ya got it bad, man. Ya tell her yet?" 

You lifted an eyebrow as Shane shifted his glare to Daryl. "Tell me what?" 

"Yeah, I did," Shane muttered. "Nothing, Ace. Focus on Hershel. How's she look?" 

Hershel looked over his shoulder. "Well, I'd say the orbital bone is cracked. Your jaw seems intact," he continued, focusing on you again. "But you're going to be hurting for awhile as you heal. Any headaches, dizziness, blurred vision, nausea?" 

You wrinkled your nose. "Yes to all. I knew something was broken, my eye's not moving right." 

"Yes, and that worries me. However, it seems mild enough you should regain full mobility as the swelling goes down. I'd say there's a strong probability of concussion as well. When you go to sleep, we'll have to try to wake you every few hours," the man told you seriously. "Is there anything else I need to check on?" 

You grimaced. "Yeah. My ribs took a beating." 

Shane shifted. "Slugger, what about-?" 

"I mean, that happened, but Hershel's not that kind of doctor. Besides, he wasn't that rough," you muttered, looking away and biting at your thumb. 

Daryl and Shane's expressions almost matched, and they both started talking at once. Hershel turned and leveled them both with his steady stare. 

"Do I need to ask you two to leave?" he said firmly, and you smirked as they both clicked their jaws shut. Then Hershel directed his kind gaze back to you. "My dear, I'm not any kind of doctor. But I can take a look at whatever needs to be looked at." 

You smiled and patted his hand. "The ribs need a glance, to make sure they're not worse than I think they are. Other than that, I'm good. Trust me." You focused on Shane's eyes and added the last part. "I've been here often enough to know." 

Shane's face contorted with black rage and on anyone else you'd have flinched back. But that was Shane, and he'd never made you feel anything but safe, even when he yelled and flung himself around or beat the shit out of someone. You waited until he scrubbed his hand over his face and ran it through his hair with a nod. 

Daryl had been watching closely, and he had a faint smile on his lips. "Just came to check on ya, sis. You good with ya cop here?" 

"He has a name," you said, rolling your eyes. "You might consider using it." 

Daryl shrugged. "He is ya cop, ain't he? If you're good, I'm goin' back out there. Keep an eye on Andrea and Merle." 

You waved him off as you pulled your shirt up so Hershel could poke at your side, gritting your teeth against the pain. "I'm good. Go keep that asshole out of trouble." 

Daryl's eyes lingered on the multi-colored mess on your side and spreading toward your stomach, and you caught a glimpse of his anger as well. "Yeah. I'll do that. Take care of her, Dickhead." 

"Call me that again," Shane snapped, his eyes not moving from yours, "and I'll break every bone in your hands so you can't use that fuckin' crossbow." 

"Yeah, asshat, I'll the only one who calls him that," you protested, frowning at Daryl. 

Daryl snorted. "Yeah, whatever. Just do it." 

Shane didn't bother to acknowledge that, too busy staring with his jaw tight and his fists clenched when you let out a gasp. Hershel had hit the rib you thought was fucked and suddenly the world was blurry and white as pain radiated from it. 

"Ace?" Shane asked. 

You waved him off as your vision steadied. "Just fucking hurts, hon, but I'm fine." 

"No, you're very much not fine," Shane snapped. "Is she?"

Hershel sighed. "Shane, calm down. She's got a broken rib, but it doesn't look like there's any internal bleeding. All your injuries will heal on their own, with time and rest. But I suspect you knew that." 

You smiled at him. "Yeah, I did. I've been here before. Unfortunately, time and rest aren't on the menu just yet." 

"Why the fuck not?" Shane snapped. "You need it." 

"Because I need to talk to Rick," you answered him calmly. "Hershel, thank you." 

He nodded and patted your unbruised cheek. "If you need to talk, or you want me to check out anything else, just call." 

"I will. Thank you," you murmured as he rose. Shane shifted to clear his path, but he didn't stop glaring at you. 

"You need to rest," he insisted. "Ace, you're beat to shit and you look like a light breeze could put you on your ass."

You sighed as you pulled yourself to your feet, and Shane's hand immediately found its way under your elbow. "And here I felt so pretty today," you told him in a cheerfully bright voice, fluttering your lashes. "You do know how to charm a girl, Officer Walsh." 

"Oh, shut up. You're always beautiful," he shot back without changing his annoyed expression. "Slugger, Rick can fucking wait a couple hours." 

"They attacked here. I saw the gates. They're coming back, and when he notices I'm gone, Malcolm's going to be-" You broke off and shivered, shoulders hunching against the fear. You swallowed and leaned into Shane's side a little more than you really needed to. "He'll be back. We need to be ready." 

Andrea stood at the top of the stairs, holding Shane and Rick's baby and talking intently to Carol. Shane's eyes narrowed on Judith in Andrea's arms and his frown grew. 

"Settle down there, Dad," you told him quietly. "She's not a bad guy. Just- confused. Besides, she saved my ass. From Mal and from a couple of walkers on the way over." 

Shane snorted and reached for your hand, his eyes never leaving Andrea. "Don't really care, to be honest, Slugger. She's sleeping with… Philip. You know what he did to Maggie?" 

You shivered again. "I know he alluded to some shit. I should talk to her." 

Shane shot you a look that was almost amused. "And tell her what?" 

"That it wasn't her fault. That if she wants to talk, I've been there," you said. At the top of the stairs, Andrea passed the baby back to Carol and hugged her, turning to come down. She paused when she saw you and her lips turned up in a slight smile. 

You nodded and she made a wait there gesture. Beside you, Shane let out an annoyed huff of air. 

"What?" you asked, turning to find him glaring at you. "She wants to talk, I'll talk." 

"Not that," he said, and shoved his free hand through his hair. "Just wish you'd listen to yourself. About what you'd tell Maggie." 

"Malcolm's different," you mumbled, hunching your shoulders. He scoffed, anger in his eyes. 

"Slugger-" 

"Ace. Can I talk to you before I leave?" Andrea asked. 

You squeezed Shane's hand and let go, and he brushed a kiss to your cheek before heading into the common area, giving Andrea another death glare. 

"He really hates me," she muttered. 

You sighed. "Not really. He hates Mal and the Governor, and, well…" 

"I'm sleeping with the enemy," Andrea said bitterly. "I heard it already. Philip's not a bad man. He's just gotten confused. There are so many people there, and his daughter just died, and he's trying to do what's best for-" 

You held up a hand and cut her off. "Andrea, stop. Look, I was a bitch on the way here. Everything I said was true, but… I get it. You see something the rest of us don't. Thing is, I was the same way with Malcolm. And look where I've ended up." 

Her eyes slid away from yours. "Rick wants me to get your people into Woodbury." 

You tilted your head, considering. "Are you going to?" 

"I can't. There's innocent people there, Ace." 

You nodded. "Ok. Why are you going back? Malcolm's going to rain holy hell down if he finds out you helped me, and really- who else could it be?" 

"I have to try," she said. "I have to try to talk to them. To him. Philip." 

You shifted and leaned against the wall, tucking your hands into the pockets of Malcolm's jeans. Suddenly all you wanted were your own clothes, and it made you a little bitchy again. "You know, what you ought to do is fuck him senseless and then stab him in the neck," you declared. "Or in the other eye, dealer's choice." 

Andrea blinked at you and you shrugged. She shook her head, glancing from you up to Carol. "Do you know, that's what Carol suggested?"

You looked up at the woman currently folding laundry and cooing at Shane's daughter, and she met your eyes a moment later. You gave her a hard nod, and she returned it. 

You turned back to Andrea and shrugged. "It's because we know. You have to use the weapons you have. Look, I know you won't do it. And I hope everything works out and he really is different. If it turns out he's not, you're welcome here. I'll convince the Neanderthals if I need to." 

Andrea smiled faintly. "Thank you." 

"No, thank you. You saved my life," you told her seriously. She hugged you, barely holding on because you were so beat up, and you headed to the common room together in silence. 

There wasn't anything else to say. 

You slung one small bag over your shoulder and glanced around the room you'd spent most of your life in. You'd sat and drawn by streetlight on that bed for countless nights. You'd whispered to Daryl on the other side of the room, stitched both your brothers and yourself up, and cried about school, Will, and boys in here. 

You couldn't fucking wait to leave. Especially since your twin was coming with you. 

Daryl stuck his head in. "Ace, we don't get a move on, Will'll be home." 

You grimaced and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I think I'm done. You got everything?" 

"Yeah. Ain't much to get, which is good 'cause Merle's place is a fuckin' joke." 

You snorted and fell into step behind him, scooping up two bottles of beer from the counter on the way out. They were for you and Daryl, when you were safely out, and you stowed them carefully in the outside pocket of the messenger bag containing all of your earthly possessions you gave a shit about other than clothes. 

So your art supplies. It contained your art supplies and your sketchbooks. 

At the doorway, you paused and glanced over the living room. Will's dirty-ass chair and the boob-shaped cigarette butt holder; the secondhand, sagging couch; the tiny kitchen where you'd kept everyone fucking fed for far more of your life than you should have had to- 

Yeah, you weren't gonna miss any of this shit. 

"Daryl," you said contemplatively, staring at Will's chair. 

He glanced at you and raised an eyebrow. "Shit. I know that look." 

You smiled slowly. "Piss on his chair." 

"No?" Daryl asked, now looking at you like you were insane. "Do it yourself." 

"That takes too long. I can't just whip it out and piss like you can. Come on, it'll be halfway decent revenge. Picture the look on his face when he sits down and sits in piss." You grabbed his arm and grinned at him, bouncing a little on your toes. 

Daryl glanced from you to the chair and chewed on his thumb. "Shit. Go down to the truck. Take this bag." 

You took it from his hand and added it to yours, but you didn't move. Daryl raised an eyebrow at you and gestured. 

"I ain't pissin' with ya standin' right there, sis, Jesus fuckin' Christ!" 

You giggled. "Fine! I'm going; I'm going!" 

Taking the stairs for the last time, you ran a hand down the worn railing and thought about being free from that abusive fuck for good. He wouldn't take a hand to you ever again, you thought fiercely. 

He'd never tell you how worthless you were. He wouldn't leave another scar on your body like the one along your back. He wouldn't casually smack you across the face and into the floor. He wouldn't leer at you or demand you take care of his lazy ass. 

You wouldn't have to live in fear anymore, you thought. No one would fucking treat you like that ever again; you'd see to it. You'd prove Will wrong, find love, be successful based on your art and your ability to make a damn good drink, and you'd be happy. 

You hopped into Daryl's battered fifth-hand pickup, the fact that it was running an advertisement for your brother's skill with an engine, and waited impatiently. When he came out the door at a jog, he was grinning the same as you. 

He hopped behind the wheel and you wrapped your arms around his neck, planting a rousing kiss on his cheek. 

"Darrie, we're free! We're fucking free! Let's go!" 

He shoved you off him with a scowl, but you saw the same light in his eyes that you knew was in yours. "Don't fuckin' call me Darrie. But yeah. Let's go." 

Will stumbled around the corner, already drunk and headed for the door. As Daryl pulled away, he didn't look at your father, but you leaned over him and hit the horn. Will jumped, looked up, and scowled. 

You leaned out Daryl's window and flipped Will off until Daryl shoved you over with a muttered curse about needing to see the goddamn road, dammit, Ace. 

You flopped back and stuck your head out the passenger side, screaming to the Atlanta streets. "We're fuckin' free!" 

Daryl shook his head at you with a roll of his eyes, but he reached for your hand when you settled down and he got caught in the inevitable Atlanta traffic. "Yeah, sis, we're free. Only now we gotta live with fuckin' Merle again, an' ya know how loud he snores, right?" 

You started laughing and didn't stop for a long time.


	70. Lie #70: “It Don’t Have To Be Right Away” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence  
Cannon typical violence  
Mentions of past abuse  
Mentions of past rape/non con

Shane stormed into the cell block, pissed and already searching for Ace. He knew some day the coiled ball of fear that lived in a his stomach when he wasn’t right at her side would ease, but a week since her return hadn’t been enough for that. Especially with what had been going on. 

Rick had taken Michonne and Carl back to King County for guns, and they’d found them. Right on the heels of that, Andrea had shown up with her proposal of a sit down between their people and the Governor’s. 

Rick had immediately informed Shane he wasn’t going, and Shane had bluntly told him to go to hell. Whether or not Malcolm fucking Hall showed up, Shane needed to be there. If the man showed, Shane would kill him. If- as Andrea had insisted- he wouldn’t be allowed to attend, then Shane would be there to watch his brother’s back. 

And Ace’s brother’s, since Daryl had gone with them. 

She swung into the common room from the cells, and the familiar sight of paint all over her hands and clothes did a hell of a lot to settle him down. Or maybe it was just seeing her. 

The bruises were well on their way to healed, thank god, and it no longer half hurt to see her face. Her eye was still moving just subtly off and her cheek was still swollen, and the ribs still had her fucked up when she moved too fast or wrong, but Shane knew she was healing. Honestly, there were moments when he forgot everything she’d been through. 

Then she would look around for him anxiously, her eyes a little too wide until they landed on him and her shoulders relaxed. Or she would lay beside him in the cell at night and whimper, though she’d only had one godawful ripper of a nightmare. At least to the best of Shane’s knowledge. If there’d been more, she hadn’t told him. 

She came right for him now and curled in against him, and Shane held her tighter than he should have as he glanced around the cell block at the group’s assembled faces. “Any problems?” 

She snorted and pushed away from him, shooting a glare at Merle. “Oh, nothing we couldn’t handle.” 

Merle grinned and blew her a kiss, and Shane felt his lips twitch as she rolled her eyes. 

Merle Dixon was still a goddamn asshole but Shane was afraid he was actually starting to like the bastard. He hadn’t thought that was possible, and lord knew they’d almost gotten in a couple of fight fights this past week.

Like when Rick had gone to King County and Ace had come for Shane at a dead run, eyes panicked and breath hitching, and said she couldn’t find her brothers anywhere. They’d searched the whole place and Shane had been crouched in front of her trying to get her to breathe and not loose her damn mind; they could take care of themselves, when they pulled back up and Maggie opened the gate. 

They’d brought back food, a couple of hand-to-hand weapons, and Merle had handed over a bag to Ace as even as she started yelling and Shane contemplated decking both Dixon men. 

“What the fuck do you two assholes think you’re playing at, going out there alone and not tellin’ anyone, and for-“ She cut off with a gasp as she looked inside the bag and Merle winked at Shane. 

“Shit, little sis, that’s what I get for brining ya a present, I won’t do it again.” 

Ace had scowled at him and clutched the bag tighter. “You’d better fucking not,” she snapped. Then her stern look had dissolved into a brighter-than-the-sun smile and she’d kissed both their cheeks. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Shane watched as she went straight toward a wall, pulling a paint can from the bag and shaking it with her other hand already measuring and making sweeping gestures as she decided what to paint. He’d had to make her go inside, what with the possibility of snipers from the woods and all, and then he and the Dixons had done some yelling. 

“How’d it go?” Ace asked anxiously now, looking from him to Rick to Daryl. 

Rick sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "I met with this Governor. Sat with him for quite awhile." 

"Just the two of you?" Merle asked, something in his tone. 

Rick nodded and Merle scoffed, shoving up from the wall and giving Ace a look. 

"Should have gone while we had the chance, baby sister." 

"Shut up, you trigger happy asshole," she fired back. "I don't care how many fucking specific whistles we learned from Will, taking him out while they we’re in there was a damn bad idea." 

Shane started to speak but Rick beat him to it. 

"He wants us gone. Dead. He wants us dead. For what we did to Woodbury." Rick stared into space, not looking at anyone, and Shane's eyes narrowed. 

Something wasn't sitting right and hadn't been since Rick stormed out of the feed store two steps ahead of the Governor Shane was still contemplating putting a bullet through the asshole right then and there. Milton would be easy enough to handle, Dixon could take Martinez, and Andrea- well, Andrea could decide what fucking side she wanted to be on. 

Shane wondered if Merle's plan had been similar. He might have been ok with it, except Ace was acting like she'd have been part of it as well as Merle. Oh well, opportunity missed.

Rick sighed. "We're going to war." 

Ace's eyes were wide as she looked at Shane, confusion on her mostly-healed face. "Ok, what the fuck was that?" 

Shane glanced at Daryl, who looked as confused as he did. "Honestly, Slugger, I got no idea. They kicked everyone out and talked, came storming out together, and that's the first Rick's spoken about it. I'll go talk to him, see what I can learn." 

She nodded and the whole group shifted, looking stressed and uncomfortable and worried as hell. Shane focused down on Ace and ran his fingers over her cheek. 

"You sure everything was fine here?" he asked softly. 

She grimaced and rolled her eyes. "Merle was a dick. He wanted to grab me and Michonne, Glenn and Maggie if they wanted in, and some of the guns and come light the place up. Glenn and I informed him it was a bad idea. I'm pretty sure he asked Michonne to go with him alone, but she turned him down. He also may have hit on her some; it's hard to tell with Merle." 

It was Shane's turn to grimace. "Slugger, I don't need to know about your brother's potential love life." 

Ace shrugged. "Yeah, well." Her eyes shifted from Shane's and he winced internally, knowing they needed to have a talk. 

She'd come on to him last night, and Shane had gently but firmly shut that shit down. He'd seen the hurt flash in her eyes, but she'd curled beside him and hadn't pressed, and Shane had been exhausted and stressed about the meeting today so he hadn't pushed to talk like he could clearly see he should have. 

Thing was, it'd only been a week. A week since Malcolm fucking Hall had forced himself on her, beaten the shit out of her, fucked with her mind as well as her body. Shane couldn't- 

Shane's stomach rolled at the thought of them having sex again so soon. Not because he didn't fucking want her- God knows he did- but because- because he couldn't stand the idea of fucking hurting her. And even if she didn't realize it, even if shit like that was so fucking normal in her world that she could come on to Shane a week later, it would hurt her. 

Shane had been connecting some goddamn dots over the last week or so, as Ace told him some things and he remembered some things. He figured Malcolm was the reason Ace had always said she didn't like sex and he figured Malcolm was the reason Ace responded to a little fucking attention from him the way she did, and he knew she'd already figured all that out. But he didn't know if she'd realized Malcolm had weaponized it in her the way he had, and Shane honestly didn't know if she'd tried to start something because she wanted to or because she was still so goddamn scared that he was going to hate her and leave her because of everything. 

And Shane had no desire for her to prove she was fucking his like she’d done at that asshole’s insistence more than once. He knew she was his without that shit. She’d still be his if they never had sex again, and Shane was fine with that. He didn't need her goddamn body for him to know how she felt about him; and the thought of misreading the situation and her having that nasty little idea in the back of her mind in regards to what they had together- 

No. Shane couldn't. He fucking couldn't. 

So he'd turned her down, held her close, and hoped she'd understood all that without him having to say it, but he could tell by the look in her eyes she didn't. Shane shoved a hand through his hair and glanced from her eyes on the floor to Merle to the door Rick had gone through, to his baby girl sleeping in the pack'n'play thing Rick and Michonne had brought back from that place in King County one of Lori's book club friends had run. 

What the hell did he do first? 

Ace looked back up at him and smiled, boosting up to kiss him gently. "Go find out what's up with Rick. Maybe bring us back a little more information. Like how long do we have before this war? Do I have time to finish my piece first?" 

A chuckle ran around the room and Shane shook his head at her and the amusement dancing in her eyes. He tugged lightly on the ends of her hair and she grinned at him. 

"What? I'm serious!" she said, her face making that a total fucking lie as everyone laughed harder. 

Shane bent and kissed her, hard, his hand on the back of her head. She blinked at him as he pulled back, and Merle's asshole laughter filled the room. 

"Easy there, Officer. That's my little sister." 

Shane rolled his eyes at the same time Ace did and ignored the asshole on the other side of the room. "Go play with your paint, sweetheart. I'll tell you what I find out." 

"I'm not playing," she protested. She shoved a hand through her hair and tried to scowl, but she had- to Shane's personal satisfaction- that slightly dazzled look in her eyes he loved being able to put there. "I'll have you know my paint kept me in room, board, and usually bail money for me and Merle." 

"And look at ya now, sis," Daryl called from across the room. "Don't need the bail money no more, do ya?" 

"Fuck you, Darrie," she called back sweetly. 

"Shit, sis, we ain't that inbred and backwoods," Merle put in, and she turned and started bitching at her brothers as Shane shook his head in fond amusement. 

He knew what the were doing, he thought as he headed to follow Rick. She and her brothers were distracting everyone from the fear and worry lingering in the room after Rick's pronouncement, and Shane thanked his lucky stars that he'd wandered into a bar one night with Rick Grimes and gotten distracted by a flash of blue hair.

He found Rick leaning in the sky walk between cell blocks, staring sightless out at the walkers milling around in the yard. Shane leaned beside him and waited, and knowing that look on Rick's face. 

"He wants Michonne," Rick said finally. 

Shane lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Wants Michonne how?" 

"He gave me a choice. A way out." 

Shane snorted. "That bastard doesn't mean a word he says, brother." 

"But what if he does?" Rick had that stubborn bastard look in his eyes and Shane sighed. 

"He'll kill her. You know that, right?" 

Rick nodded. "And then kill us. But what if he doesn't? What if this is the answer?"

Jesus fucking Christ, Shane thought. Who the hell was this he was looking at? Rick Grimes, back in the day, couldn't handle casualties. Shane had witnessed Rick stop SWAT from taking a shot by physically blocking it- and Lord had Shane yelled at him over that one- in order to talk a man with a hostage down and save the asshole's life. But now Rick was talking about handing a woman over to that- that one-eyed bastard, knowing the state Ace had come back in? 

That was more Shane's move than Rick's. Shane believed in acceptable losses and sacrificing someone for the greater good. Shit, just look at Otis. 

But the thing was, over the winter, Shane had learned a thing or two from Rick and Ace and hell, even Daryl. He'd lost some of that ruthless edge, that him-and-his-own-above-all-else, and he wasn't fucking sure this was the way to go. Especially since Rick hadn't mentioned it to the group. That right there was a red fucking flag to Shane. 

"Why didn't you tell the others?" he asked now. 

Rick turned hard eyes to him as his jaw tightened. "They need to be scared. Cause that's the only way they'll accept it." 

"Well Jesus, brother, don't you think that means maybe it ain't the way to go?" Shane asked, incredulous. "I- I mean, man, don't get me wrong. I'm a fuck 'em if they ain't ours kinda guy, and you know that. What I did to Otis, it isn't any different than what you're talking about right here and now. But you told me that wasn't the way to go. Maybe this isn't either." 

"But Carl lived. And this way, maybe, maybe we all live," Rick insisted, head tilted and giving that look to the air above Shane's shoulder, which was his next clue that Rick had this all wrong. 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair. "Yeah, man, maybe. All of us except Michonne." 

"You want to put Carl at risk? Judith? Ace?" Rick hissed it viciously, and Shane blinked. "That's what we're talking about if we take them all on. All of them in there, they could be dead or worse. If he gets his hands on Ace again, she's going straight to Malcolm fucking Hall and you know it." 

Shane snarled. "Don't. Don't use that as a way to convince me this is the right fuckin' path, Rick. Cause you know I'll do anything to kill that bastard. But you're asking me to sign off on the possibility of peace, and you fucking know I won't." 

Rick shifted, nodding slightly and dropping his head. "I'm asking you to sign off on the possibility of survival. Brother, if we go to war, I don't know that we'll win." 

"And that's a reason for this? Man, you know- you know what he'll do," Shane said softly. "You really ok with that? You prepared to live with that? Sacrificing someone, it ain't- it ain't easy." 

Rick swallowed and met Shane's eyes for the first time. "You once told me you'd do anything to keep Carl and Lori safe. I wasn't- I thought I'd do the same, but I wasn't there yet. And I lost Lori- we lost Lori, 'cause I know you loved her, too- because of it. I won't lose anyone else. I won't lose Carl or Judith. So if I have to sacrifice Michonne and live in peace with that bastard to keep them safe, I'm prepared to do it. Are you?" 

Shane stared for a long moment, then nodded. "One condition. No matter what, Malcolm fucking Hall dies, Rick. He dies slow and he dies painful. It don't have to be today, don't have to be right away, but he dies." 

Rick nodded and reached for Shane's shoulder. "I can live with that, too." 

"King County Sheriff's department, come out with your hands up!" Rick's voice was calm and controlled, his grip steady on his gun at Shane's side. 

Shane had his shotgun on his shoulder, trained at the door where they'd gotten the call about a possible hostage situation. Multiple agencies were on their way, but Rick and Shane had been literally right around the corner, and they were first on scene. 

The small office building seemed peaceful. Hell, it didn't even look open. Shane and Rick waited in silence as their radios filled the air with background information Shane processed and filtered out without thinking about it. 

Officers on scene. Backup from King County en route, five minutes out. Georgia State Patrol en route, ten minutes out. Neighboring counties sending units. Hold positions, do not engage unless necessary. 

There was movement behind the glass and two figures appeared, one held in front of the other with wide, terrified eyes in a pale face. 

"Rick." Shane said. 

"I see it," Rick answered and grabbed at his radio. "Dispatch, unit 3 on scene. Got an eye on the gunman, one hostage in hand. Entering negotiations." 

"Negative, unit 3, be advised state police are sending a negotiator, seven minutes out. Units one and four three minutes out. Will patch in State Patrol radio." 

Shane shook his head as State Patrol came on the air saying they should wait as well. "What's the call, brother?" he asked, eyeing the terrified figure in the window. 

Rick hesitated and sighed. "We wait, I guess." 

Then a single shot and a scream split the air from inside the building. 

"Never mind," Rick snapped grimly. "Dispatch, Unit 3. Situation devolving, shots fired, cannot wait. Unit three engaging."

Shane nodded sharply. "Got you covered." 

"I know. Sir! King County Sheriff's Department! Come out with your hands up!" Rick yelled again, and the door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for the brief hiatus- life happened! Thanks for sticking with me! ❤️


	71. Lie #71: “I’ll Just Ask Her If You Don’t Tell Me” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence   
Cannon typical violence  
Mentions/references to past abuse and rape/non con  
Infertility mentioned

You went looking for Shane when you came out of your paint haze again, the mural on the cell block wall that you’d been working on all week finally complete. You could tell, based on the sun and your knowledge of your own habits, that you’d been at it for a few hours at least. Now it was done and you were happy and you wanted to show it off, since it might have been the best thing you’d ever done. Then again, maybe it was just the first thing you’d done in so long you were no longer any fucking judge.

And of course, that meant Shane was nowhere to be found. Rick, Daryl, or Merle either, come to think of it. 

You came to the immediate conclusion that they were up to something. 

You headed back inside, mostly because you knew if you hung around in the courtyard Shane or Rick or Daryl or Merle or hell, Glenn or Carol or Maggie would bitch your ear off about snipers and Malcolm and putting yourself in danger. Never mind that they had just come back from their super secret meeting and there was no way the Governor could have organized an attack this soon. 

Unless he already had it planned. Goddamn it; guess you were going back inside. 

You wandered back in, stopping to take a crying Judith from Beth long enough for her to make a bottle.

“What’s going on, baby girl?” You whispered to her, cuddling her close and doing the shuffle-sway thing you’d seen the others do when they held her. “You hungry? Missing your dads? They’re up to something, let me tell you.” 

Judith made a grumpy noise but she stopped crying, and Beth came back over. 

“Want to feed her?” 

“Need a break?” you asked with a smile.

She shook her head, but you took the bottle anyway and held it awkwardly to Judith’s lips. Luckily the baby knew what to do even if you didn’t, and she latched on and started sucking it down. 

You tried not to think it, but the thought wormed in anyway- if you hadn’t talked back to Will, you might have known what the hell you were doing with this little one. 

“You’re good with her,” Beth said shyly. “And Shane dotes on her.” 

“Yeah, he does,” you agreed, staring down at Judith’s tightly closed eyes and tiny little fists batting against the bottle. “I’m not that good with her, though. I have no idea what I’m doing. Not like you.” 

Beth shrugged. “I did a lot of babysitting. And I like being helpful.” 

“Oh you are. If left to our own devices with her, Shane would have her in a bubble, Rick wouldn’t have named her yet, and Daryl would have her drinking beer and shooting a crossbow already. Little Ass-kicker,” you said with a laugh and an eye roll. 

“Are you and Shane going to have some? Not right away, I mean, but when things settle down,” Beth said, frowning at your wild look. 

You forced yourself to smile and passed the baby and bottle over to her. “No, I can’t have kids,” you told her in what you hoped was a relaxed voice. “Have you seen either of my brothers or Shane?” 

Beth’s eyes were wide and her mouth opened like she wanted to ask questions, but she didn’t. “Merle’s in the cells. He just came in, with Michonne. He’s looking at your mural. It’s amazing.” 

“Thanks,” you called over your shoulder, already retreating from her and Shane’s daughter and a sadness you didn’t want to feel.

Merle had an interesting amount of blood on him, which he had most definitely not been sporting when you’d last seen him. Your eyes narrowed as you walked up to him. 

“What’d you do?” 

He glanced at you and flashed his shit eating grin. “Whatcha talkin’ about, sis? I ain’t done nothing.” 

“Sure,” you muttered, but honestly you didn’t know that you wanted to know what he’d been up to. “Got blood on your face.” 

Merle grunted. “You’ve got paint on yours.” 

You ignored that and stepped back to study your piece with a critical eye. You could already see about a thousand flaws and mistakes, because damn were you rusty. Oh well, it still looked awesome, you decided with a shrug. Maybe not, as you’d originally thought, the best thing you’d ever done, but still. 

“Ya always make faces like that when ya finish a piece?” 

You glanced at Merle with an eyebrow raised. “What the hell you talking about?” 

He snorted. “Ya makin’ faces at ya work like this ain’t a damn masterpiece and all ya see’s flaws. Stop that shit.” 

You could feel yourself smiling slightly and leaned against Merle’s shoulder. Your asshole older brother was still being an asshole, but he’d been almost sweet more than a little the past week or so- almost like when you were kids and he’d take care of you and Daryl. Gruffly sweet wasn’t something you’d associated with him in a long time, and you were starting to wonder if you’d written him off because of his actions before the world ended or because of Mal’s opinion of him. 

You really hoped it wasn’t the second, but you had a nasty suspicion it was. 

“You like it?” you asked. 

He snorted. “Course I do. Love all ya shit, lil sister.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered, touched. “Why’s Michonne pissed at you?” 

“Hell, sugar. How’s ol’ Merle supposed to know why a woman’s pissed?” 

You snorted. “You’re dodging and I know it. I’ll just ask her if you won’t answer. Fine, how about this- are you hitting on her?” 

Merle turned and grinned at you. “Ya cop ain’t doin’ enough for ya there, girl? Need to live vicariously through ya big brother’s sex life?” 

You made a face. “Number one, gross. Number two, leave my sex life alone. Not that I have much of one right now.” 

“Cop’s takin it slow? Good for him,” Merle grunted, voice going hard. 

You rolled your eyes, regretting this topic immensely. You wanted to change the subject, but you blurted out the thing you’d been thinking since Shane had turned you down the night the before. Apparently the Dixon impulse control problems were alive and kicking for you today. “I think he doesn’t want me anymore.” 

Merle’s eyes shot wide and downright panicked, and you kept talking before he could say anything. 

“I mean, I don’t even blame him. Not after everything. It’s a fucking miracle he wanted me before, once he knew everything that happened with Mal and the kids thing and all. And now, after what I said and did with Mal even though Shane and I- I don’t blame him.” 

“Little sister, ya need to stop fuckin’ talking now,” Merle said bluntly, and your mouth snapped closed. You blinked at him, and he glared down at you. 

“Now look here. I ain’t one to do more’n tease the shit outta ya about ya cop. Ya business is ya business. But if ya go thinking like that any longer I’m gonna tell him and let him yell at ya awhile, cause that bullshit needs to stop.” 

“You’re one to talk about bullshit, Merle,” Michonne’s pissed off voice cut through the cell block. “Rick’s called a meeting for everyone. To talk about your redneck ass, most likely.” 

Your eyes narrowed again as you glanced between them. Merle shifted and looked down at the floor, looking guilty as hell and not meeting Michonne’s eyes. 

“Ok, big brother, what the fuck did you do?” 

“Merle!” You yelled, tears in your eyes as you ran through the apartment. “Merle, Daryl pulled my hair!” 

Your brother, twelve years old and scowling as he stood at the stove, turned to glare at you. You let your lip tremble as you poked it out and his eyes narrowed. 

“What’d ya do to him first?” he demanded. 

You pouted, chewing on your fingernail. “Nothin’.” 

“She did too! She-“ Daryl’s voice came from behind you, furious as he stormed out of the bedroom the three of you shared. 

“Ya know what? I don’t fuckin’ care none! Jesus,” Merle half-yelled. He waved a spoon covered in Mac and cheese sauce in your direction. “Ace, hit ‘im harder if he hurts ya. I done taught ya how, didn’t I? Daryl, don’t hurt girls ‘less they hit you first; ain’t fair.” 

You frowned. “That’s sexist.” 

“Fuckin’ hell, lil sis. Ya seven; how the fuck ya know what sexist means?”

You looked down your nose at him as best you could. “I’m smart, that’s how. You’re a sexist prick. Hitting girls is no different from hitting boys. You shouldn’t hurt anybody unless they hurt you first.” 

Merle and Daryl both snorted, and Merle turned back to the stove. “That’s the problem, ain’t it, sis? Somebody always hits first.”

That had you glancing anxiously at Daryl and reaching for his hand as you both looked to the door. 

"I didn't do nothin' Officer Friendly didn't put me up to," Merle declared for the fourth time. "It ain't my fault he changed his goddamn mind an' didn't tell no one!" 

"I was looking for you! You were supposed to wait!" Rick snapped. 

You leaned your elbows on the table in front of you and rested your head in your hands, trying to process what was happening. 

"Let me get this straight," you interrupted before your brother could retort- either of them, since Daryl was in this ass-deep and sinking fast. "The Governor offered you a deal. You decided not to tell anyone but Shane about it- we're going to fight in a minute, Shanizzle, so just sit right there and shut up- and then brought my brothers into it. Who decided for some asinine reason not to tell you how much of a shit plan it was, and instead-" 

You lifted your head and glared liberally around at the men in your life, who were apparently conspiring behind everyone else's backs. 

"- Instead, Merle decided to kidnap Michonne on his own?" 

"To be fair, he let me go," Michonne said with a lazy shrug. She was glaring at Merle still, though, and you had a sneaking suspicion you hadn't heard the full story yet. 

You decided it was time to. "Merle. What else did you do?" 

Merle shifted and looked away. 

"Slugger-" 

Your glare shot to Shane. "No. Nope, Officer Walsh, you're in the hot seat too. We'll fight later." 

"She called ya Officer Walsh, man, you're in trouble," Daryl muttered. 

"Don't think you aren't in trouble as well, Darrie," you told your twin with syrupy sweetness that had him wincing. 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and glanced at Daryl. "I think I preferred Shanizzle." 

"Naw, ya don't. She only busts out the girls' names when she's real pissed," Daryl informed him. “Starts actin’ like Merle. I know I’m in some shit if she calls me Darlene.”

“Does Shanizzle count as a girl’s name?” Shane asked. 

Daryl snorted, eyeing you with that goddamn expression that said he was causing trouble for the hell of it. “Yeah, look at her. She’s gonna go for the fuckin’ knife any second now.” 

You closed your eyes again and practiced breathing before you proved Daryl right. The asshole.

"I think we're getting a little far afield," Rick said into the tense silence. "The point is, this isn't a decision that I can make. It can’t be like how I said, after the farm- it can't- it can't be like that." 

"Then why'd you make it like that, Rick?" you snapped without thinking. "You made the decision, and you drug my boyfriend and both my brothers into it without bothering to consult the rest of us! Now, don't get me wrong, I have no issues with you bein' in charge. I feel like I've known you, at least through Shane's eyes, for a long damn time, and I trust you. But this? You put them all in danger, and did you- did you see me when Andrea brought me back? Did you see Maggie and Glenn? He's bad fuckin' news, Rick!" 

"I know!" Rick snarled. "That's why I had to take the chance. I had to consider it. Even if only for a minute. I told Merle to get his opinion on how to do it, if we did. I didn't think he'd go try it on his own." 

You swung back around toward Merle and waited. He hunched his shoulders and glared at your shoulder. 

"I knew he'd chicken out, lil sis. Both them pig bastards would. And I did see ya. I figured if there's a way to keep the peace, we take it. But-" 

"But you couldn't do it, because that's not who you are. It's not who any of this group is," Michonne said quietly. "Which is why Merle let me go, then drove straight into the Governor's clutches alone, to take him out himself." 

Silence fell for a tense moment. Then you and Daryl exploded into yelling at the same time, both of you shoving to your feet and converging on your brother. His face was stony as he glared between the two of you, and there was a lovely Dixon siblings moment well under way, the three of you talking over each other at increasing volumes while the others watched with wide eyes. 

Merle ended it with a roar you hadn't heard since the night he and Will had both been arrested. "He beat the shit outta ya again, Ace! I didn’t fuckin’ do my job an’ keep ya safe from that bastard for a second damn time, and I ain't lettin' that stand!" 

You froze, remembering a sudden punch out of fucking nowhere that landed you on the floor. Your stomach churned with all the rest, the pain and the questions and the look in the Governor’s and Malcolm's eyes, and you swallowed hard and stepped back from Merle before you thought. 

"Shit, asshole," Daryl snapped, reaching for you. 

Shane beat him to you, shooting a glare at Merle as he ran a hand over your cheek. "Ace?" 

You shook your head, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. "I'm fine, Dickhead. I'm fine." 

Shane snorted. "Sure. Then I guess it's cool for me to mention I fuckin' agree with your brother. You're still an asshole, Dixon, and you shouldn't have gone alone. You could have gotten yourself killed. Should have asked me along." 

"Oh, for shit's-" 

"No," Shane said bluntly. "Ace, stop. Sure, turning Michonne over to him? Not the right call. I told Rick that, but shit. I ain't in any position to judge. I sacrificed Otis for Carl. For myself. Sacrificing one person for you, for Judith, for Carl? If it would work, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Sorry, Michonne." 

Michonne just grunted and waved him off. "They're your kids and your woman. I don't blame you. But you'd try, Walsh. You wouldn't succeed." 

"Fair enough," Shane said with a grin. "You could probably take me. Point is, Slugger- hell, everyone- Rick had to consider it. But it wouldn't work, and he couldn’t do it anyway. He just had to figure that out for himself." 

Rick interrupted again. "I did. I had to figure it out. We're gonna vote. We can stand and fight, or we can run. But we do it together, and we decide together."


	72. Lie #72: "I'm Not Telling, Asshole" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of past rape/non con  
mentions of past abuse

Shane stood looking at your piece, a smile on his lips as he studied it with his head tipped and that serious expression you loved. You stopped where you were, even with the anger bubbling inside you over him deliberately keeping you out of the loop. Shane studying your work would always make you pause and stare. 

You wished you still had some of your private collection of sketches, hidden away in the back of your closet in Atlanta. You wished you could show him some of them. Others not so much, but that look in his eyes, right there- you wondered how you'd missed that he looked at your art the way he looked at you. You'd fucking sketched him with that look in his eyes, and you still hadn't figured it out, damn it. 

"You need a shower," he said without turning his head. 

You scoffed. "It's just paint." 

"Still. There's a blue streak down your nose." He glanced over with an amused smile and you rolled your eyes. 

You stepped closer, crossing your arms and trying to maintain your glare. "Thought you liked blue on me." 

"I do. Especially in that hair. We take the Governor out, I'm bringing you some dye. Been meaning to since the damn farm," he muttered, reaching out and fiddling with your hair. 

You could feel your irritation fading and tried to shore it back up. You were pissed at him, damn it. He didn't get to be sweet and get out of trouble without a fight. Right? Ugh, sigh. He was studying your piece again, and he was still playing with your hair, and you were melting. 

"This is damn good, Slugger," he said softly. "Tell me about it." 

"You trying to get out of the argument?" you demanded, even as you started turning to a puddle of goo the way only Shane could get you to.

"Nope. I haven't heard you talk art in a long damn time, and I wanna know what this means to you," he said easily. He let go of your hair in favor of wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and you sighed and gave in. 

"It's us. It's all of us," you said with a shrug. "Our lives, then and now, to remind us when we need it."

Small images and scenes wove together to form the Atlanta skyline. It was an image crafted from images, and everyone had been waiting for you to finish and asking questions as you'd worked; questions you'd refused to answer. There was at least one building for each person, what you knew of them and their lives giving it shape. 

Tiny scenes from moments on the road together, objects or phrases or places that reminded you of each of them, scenes you hadn't been present for but had heard stories about, portraits of them all from various moments- the wall held everything. Shane studied each building, took it all in slowly, moving down the line and bringing you with him. 

He stopped at the last building, staring in surprise, and turned to look at you. You shifted and looked away, feeling yourself blush. "What?" 

He shook his head slightly and pulled you closer to his side. "I've never- I've literally never seen you do a drawing of yourself, Slugger." 

You'd given yourself a building, filling it with the good and some of the bad, including yourself painting a wall- that had been pretty damn meta for you, you painting a wall with a picture of you painting a wall- one of yourself with a bruised and bloody face, and a third of you reaching over to Shane's building, where he stood with one hand gripping yours and his gun in the other. You shrugged. 

"I don't do self-portraits. Not after Mal hit me into one and fucked it up. Well, no. That's- I suppose that's not true," you muttered, remembering that private collection of sketches you'd never shown anyone. "I have a few." 

Shane eyed you. "I've never seen them." 

"No one has, Dickhead. I do have some things I draw but don't share," you shot back, rolling your eyes. 

"You show me everything," he protested, turning away from the wall to face you with a little frown. "At least, I thought you did. And hell, girl, what you didn't show me I just flipped through while you were busy." 

You snorted. "Yeah, I doubt that. There's a few I know you'd have something to say about if you'd seen them." 

Like the one of him in your shower with predatory eyes, or the one of yourself, bruised and bloodied, that you'd done while staring into the mirror and talking to him on the phone one night about everything and nothing, and certainly not about Malcolm. Like the one of him asleep in your bed the morning after he'd showed up at your place wrecked in the middle of the night, when he'd killed someone on the job and not known where else to go. Like the one of the two of you together up against your apartment wall, or the close up of your own hand in his hair, tipping his head back and his smirk as he looked up into your eyes. Or the one of Malcolm screaming in rage, done like he was leaning over you because that's what he'd been doing when you'd seen him like that. Or the one of Will's belt, bloody and in the air mid-strike, like a snake. 

Yeah, there were a few he'd have something to say about, you thought, but you forced the darker ones aside.

He had a very interested expression now, laughter and concern mixing together as he grinned at you. "Shit, Slugger, what kind of crazy shit you hiding from me?" 

It was easy to forget about the bad shit when he turned that smile on, and you shrugged as you grinned back. "I might have one or two sketches of you from that night." 

"No shit." He smirked as he turned to face you, one hand on your hip and the other fiddling with your hair again. "Like what? I gonna be heading to Atlanta to try to find that shit?" 

You rolled your eyes. "You and your goddamn ego. I'm not telling, asshole." 

"Oh yeah, you drew me naked," Shane teased, lazy satisfaction in his tone. 

Ok, that was it. It wasn't like he was wrong- you had, indeed, drawn him naked, several of them, in fact- but... He sounded too damn pleased with himself, and you couldn't let that stand. 

You winked at him. "Hell, honey, I drew both of us naked." 

Shane's eyes went dark and hot, and you bit your lip as he licked his and looked away. "That right?" he asked a beat later, voice rough. 

"Yeah. I might tell you more, if you wanted to join me in that shower," you offered, stepping just a little closer. 

He shoved his hand through his hair, cleared his throat, and sighed. "Slugger," he said slowly, not looking you in the eyes. 

"Oh. Never mind," you muttered flatly, taking a step back. "I get it." 

He grabbed your hand as you turned to walk away, pain and nausea rolling through you. He held on as you resisted, not letting you leave. You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes and wished he'd just let you go, damn it. 

"Stop. Ace, just stop," he said, voice pleading. 

You shook your head, looking at the ground, and turned your wrist in his grip and pulled, breaking his hold. You wrapped your arms around yourself and started to walk away again. "No, Shane, it's fine," you said over your shoulder, needing nothing more than to leave before you had a breakdown in front of him. 

"No, it isn't," he snapped, and grabbed your shoulders. He spun you around and you let him, knowing he wasn't going to let you go. He wouldn't just let you keep some of your goddamn dignity, damn it.

The first of the tears slid out as he took your face in his hands and tried to get you to look at him. 

"Slugger, please. Just wait half a damn minute before you jump to the wrong fucking conclusion. Please? Damn it, just- come here," he growled. He let go of your face and you missed the warmth of his hands instantly. He grabbed you by elbow instead, hauling you toward your cell. 

You slept beside each other every night. He had held you after that- that horrible nightmare you'd had, one where you'd woken up to Shane's hand on your shoulder and you'd clocked him on the jaw hard enough to leave a mark. He'd told you he loved you every night, whispering it in your ear when he thought you were too close to sleep to hear it. Hell, he told you he loved you at least once a day when he knew you could hear him, but it was the words he said in the dark that got you.

But he didn't want you anymore, not like that. 

You didn't get it. It shouldn't have bothered you either. You'd never wanted, needed, sex the way other people did. You'd told him once you could take it or leave it, and that had always been true. Until Shane. 

Now it fucking mattered, and thinking he didn't want to touch you again? It hurt. It fucking hurt more than you wanted to admit, and the guilt of knowing you'd earned it, by letting Mal have his way- Well, that made it worse. 

He'd nailed a sheet over the doorway of the cell a couple days after taking over, for privacy, and he held it up now and gestured you inside. You sniffed and ducked under, careful not to touch him as you did. In the cell, you leaned against the wall and stared blankly at your packs on the top bunk, side by side and both with shit spilling out of them and piled on top of the bunk in a jumbled heap of clothing and personal items you'd picked up on the way. Your art bag from Merle sat next to Shane's gun cleaning kit, the strap flung over one of his half-folded pairs of jeans. He had a paperback he'd found in someone's cell- some bullshit thriller about a serial killer, and wasn't that a weird thing to find in prison?- sitting upside down and open to the last page he'd read, adding another crack along the spine, on top of your sketchbook. You frowned at that, but his treatment of books wasn't really the issue here. 

You and Shane, jumbled together in a visual you had a suddenly overwhelming urge to sketch. A deflated football Carl had found and asked Shane if he could fix was barely visible under a plaid shirt that you honestly didn't know which of you it belonged to, since any of his you wore anyway- like you were right now, plaid over a tee you'd shredded. One of Daryl's homemade bolts that you'd stolen for a reason you couldn't even fucking remember now, currently held a scribbled map- Shane's work- showing how to get to the boiler room easiest in place, not that either of you needed directions. Extra laces for his boots and your backup pair of Converse sneakers sat with a can of paint and, ew, an old bottle of Judith's that needed to be washed. How long had that been there? 

Your eyes burned, so you leaned against the wall and closed them. 

"Ace, sweetheart, would you look at me, please?" Shane asked from beside you. 

You swallowed hard and slowly opened your eyes, turning to look at his chin. It was as close as you could get, and he sighed again and shifted, one hand braced on the bunk and the other shoving through his hair. He looked agitated and unhappy, and your immediate instinct was to fake a smile and take that unhappiness away. After all, you were the one who put it there. 

"It's fine, Shane," you said, painting a smile on your lips. "I get it. Look, I can- there's plenty of cells, so-" 

"Shut the fuck up and quit that shit right now," he snapped. 

You stopped talking, mouth closing hard enough your teeth clicked together. "What shit?" 

He snarled and shoved off the bunks, taking your face in his hands again even when you started to shy away from him. "Don't give me that fake-ass smile and your bartender voice, Slugger. I know what you're doing, damn it." 

You lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, meeting his eyes briefly. "Sorry. It's not fake though. It really is fine, and I really will-" 

He kissed you. 

You froze, Shane's mouth urgent and hot on yours, and couldn't quite believe what was happening. Then his he slid his hands into your hair and pressed you back into the wall and- 

Oh. Oh, yes, ok. This was happening, and you'd fucking missed it, goddamn it. 

You kissed him back, knowing you'd be embarrassed about the sound you just made later, but right now you were too caught up in the way he was kissing you like he might never let you breathe again to care about how fucking- fucking needy that had been. He answered you with a rumbled growl without taking his lips from yours and your knees legitimately went weak. 

And just as suddenly as he'd started, he stopped, taking a long step away and turning to grab the bed frame in both hands, his knuckles white as he leaned his forehead to the bed. You spent a long, silent moment wondering why you felt so goddamn lightheaded before you thought oxygen might be a good idea and drew in a breath. 

"What," you said slowly after you'd filled your lungs again, "the fuck was that? And why'd you stop doing it?" 

Shane snorted, shoulders shaking as he started to laugh. It had a wild edge to it, and your eyebrows went up while you waited for him to get his shit together. He groaned, let go of the bed, and turned to look at you. 

His hair was sticking up a little where you'd had a handful of it, you thought with vague satisfaction. 

"It's too soon, Slugger," he said bluntly. 

"Too soon for what?"

He shot you a look and you sighed. Yeah, ok, you knew for what. You shifted uneasily, and he took your hand in his, coming back close to you and running his fingertips over your still-swollen cheek. 

"Come on, sweetheart. I know you think it's no big deal, but it is to me. And not because I don't want you, 'cause that- that's some bullshit of the highest order," he whispered, shaking his head. "I want you all the damn time, girl. I promise you that." 

"So, then-" you started impatiently, leaning into him. 

"Ace. It's- I- I can't. I can't have you thinkin'- Look. I don't need you to prove you're mine," he said harshly. 

You froze again, eyes going wide and breath catching around a suddenly dry throat. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, jaw tightening as he leaned his forehead onto the fist he rested on the wall beside your head. 

"I know you think it ain't a big deal; that you've been down that damn road so many times you can- you can put it away easy and forget it. But, honey, I- I can't. And I'll be dead before I have you thinking in any way that when I touch you, it's 'cause I want to- to make you pay, or make you prove something to me, or make you hurt. Slugger, sweetheart, I-"

"Shane," you cut him off in a whisper, just his name and your hand gripping his shirt against his chest. 

He turned and looked at you from the corner of his eye, his expression tight and grim and worried, and something in your chest ached with the weight of how goddamn much he cared. That was it; that was everything- he cared, and it did you in every fucking time. You sighed and wrapped yourself around him, resting your chin against his shoulder as he shifted to pull you tighter against him. 

"I don't- I'm not- I'm not coming onto you to prove anything," you said after careful thought. He stiffened and you knew he was going to ask if you were sure, so you kept talking before he could. "Yes, I'm sure. Trust me, Dickhead, I come onto you because you're hot as hell and I like fucking you." 

Shane snorted, choking on air before busting into the laughter you'd known you could get from him. "Shit, Slugger." 

You pushed back just enough to grin at him and found him giving you his amused-exasperated look. "Knew I could get a laugh. I mean it, though. I hear you; I get what you're saying. But I swear to God, Shane, it's never been like that with us, and it never will be. I promise. I've told you before, I'll say no if I don't want something. I mean it." 

He glanced away, the smile fading as he swallowed again and nodded. "I know. I believe you, sweetheart, but I- I can't. Not yet. Just- let me- let me take care of you for awhile longer. Please, Ace." 

You wanted to retort that he could take care of you very well when it came to what you were talking about, too, but you couldn't do it. Not when he looked so sad and serious and said please like that. You kissed him gently. 

"Ok. As long as it's not- Shane, just promise me if you ever stop wanting this, wanting me, you'll tell me. I can take it, but I need you to be honest about it." 

His eyes went hard and possessive, and you felt a shiver go down your spine as he pulled you in tighter and kissed you again. "You're mine, Slugger," he whispered in your ear. "I will always want you, you hear me? And I'll always be honest with you." 

Funny how Mal saying you were his made you angry, and Shane saying it- 

Well, angry was definitely not how you felt right now. 

You tossed the bag of limes back into the cooler and slammed the lid. 

"Jesus, Ace," Jason muttered. "What'd the fruit do to you?" 

You shot him a glare that had him lifting an eyebrow at you in wordless question. "Nothing," you snapped, shoving past him to your next task. You cut the sink on and dumped cleaner and rising solution in their respective sides, standing and drumming your fingers on the stainless steel as you watched the first basin fill. 

"Alright," Jason said slowly. "What's wrong? Malcolm got a new bimbo or something?" 

You snorted and swung the faucet to the other side, leaving the middle sink empty. "No, and it wouldn't matter if he did since he broke up with me a week ago. I'm in a bad mood." 

"Fighting with Shane? Haven't seen him around in awhile," Jason mused, doing top-shelf inventory and marking what needed to be ordered. 

That was something that should have been done last night, you thought grumpily, but you hadn't closed the fucking bar, so it didn't get done, did it? Of course not.

"You know, not all of my moods revolve around men," you snapped at him. "Though the way you're going, tonight's will. Seriously, J, why didn't you do that shit last night?" 

He didn't even turn to look at you. "Because Ellie told me to go home at three am while she waited for the cops to check out the guy who died in the john. I told you last night was a rough one. Frankly, my ass is only here because it's a Saturday and I didn't want to leave you in the lurch. So you're fighting with the cop. What'd he do?" 

You grimaced and turned off the tap, running a hand over your face. "Shit, I forgot about the dead guy. Sorry. I- yeah, I'm fighting with Shane." 

Jason snorted, leaned over, and kissed your cheek. "Honey, we've been tending bar together for almost a decade, this is hardly the first time you've been bitchy to me. What'd the cop do? Tell me; you'll feel better." 

You scowled, pulling out your phone. "I'll do better. I'll fucking show you. You should see what he said." 

You scrolled through texts and pretended not to notice Jason laughing at you. You couldn't believe what Shane had said. You'd seen him a shot of your latest piece, and he'd- 

"Here!" you said, holding out your phone to Jason. 

He turned and took it, clicking on the pic first and studying it closely, then closing it out and reading Shane's message. 

"Huh," he said, and started scrolling. 

You snatched your phone back from him, frowning at his carefully neutral face. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" 

Jason glanced at you and turned deliberately back to the shelves and his inventory. "I mean, it wasn't the nicest thing he's ever said about one of your pieces." 

Your eyes narrowed. "You agree with him." 

Jason's back went stiff and he very carefully replaced the bottle of Patron. "I didn't-" 

"You agree with him!" 

Jason turned, biting his lip. "Ace, you know I- and Shane- love you and your art, but baby girl, that's a vagina and a penis. You need to get laid or something?" 

You blinked at him, his earnest expression never wavering even as he clearly expected to get reamed for saying it. You glanced back at your phone and clicked on the picture, studying it with your head tilted to one side. 

"Oh my god," you said slowly, and started laughing. "You're right. You're so right, and so is he, and I- fuck. I gotta-" 

Your fingers started flying over the keys as you laughed so damn hard tears started sliding down your face. 

\-- Ok, Dickhead, Jason agrees with you. I took another look, and, well- you're right. It's a giant blue penis and a purple vag. This is why I can't do abstract. I'm so sorry. I've been a total bitch all damn day and you're one hundred percent right.

Jason walked over and planted a kiss on your forehead. "Go call your cop and make up if you want; I can finish set up. And do us all a favor and burn that thing when you get home. Maybe go on a date, too." 

You snorted and flipped him off as your phone chimed in your hand. 

\-- Thank God. I'm halfway to Atlanta anyway, that bastard isn't on tonight, right?

You grinned and showed your phone to Jason, who just rolled his eyes. 

"That's nauseating. Get him to handle your little issue for you," he muttered, and you smacked his shoulder. 

"We're just friends, J. You know that." 

\-- Don't text and drive, Officer Walsh. No music tonight; just me and Jason and a story about a dead guy in the bathroom. 

"Yeah, well, you could fix that. Based on that painting, you need to," Jason fired back.

\-- at a light don't bitch be there in an hour and wtf?

\-- call me or wait till you get here, but STOP TEXTING before you get yourself killed.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket and went for the doors significantly happier, even with Jason's teasing. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?" you called to him, flipping the locks. 

A car pulled up, one of your usual barflies, and you shook your head. "Pull the Jamie; Mara's here and she looks pissed." 

Jason groaned. "That bodes well for the evening. It's not even five yet." 

You shrugged as the door opened. "Saturday, bitch. Hey, Mara, how's it going?" 

"I need to get laid," she declared, sliding onto a stool. "Either of you free?" 

She glanced between you and Jason when he practically hit the deck, he was laughing so hard, and you rolled your eyes at him and plopped a shot glass of Irish neat in front of her. She tossed long red hair- the Irish was strong in her even without the drink- over her shoulder as you flipped Jason off. 

"I miss something?" she asked, lips quirking in amusement.

"Ace painted a giant vag and dong today and got in fight with her not-boyfriend over it," Jason declared, and Mara started coughing as she tossed back the Jameson's. 

You grabbed a bar towel and snapped it at Jason's ass, popping him so hard he yelped. You turned back to Mara with a smile and shrugged. "I mean, he's not wrong about any of that, but it's the way he says it, you know?" 

She started laughing as you headed toward the jukebox to put on Ben's rock playlist as an apology to Shane when he got here. The door opened and a couple more of your regulars trickled in, and Jason held up a hand for your customary fist-bump as you passed each other. Let the Saturday night begin.

The group gathered about an hour later, an hour you'd spent arguing with and then making up with your brothers as well as Shane over leaving you out of the loop and doing stupid and reckless things. You'd then ordered Merle to have a chat with Michonne, standing with your arms crossed and a stern look on your face as he apologized for kidnapping her and thanked her for saving his damn fool life. 

She managed to not bust into laughter, even though you could tell she wanted to. After you scolded Merle a little more, him glaring and looking annoyed as hell but knowing better than to argue with you right then, you stepped up and kissed his cheek. He walked away with his face red and small smile on his lips, and you turned and thanked Michonne sincerely and profusely. 

"He's an asshole and an idiot, but he's my asshole and idiot, and we just found him again. Seriously, I can't thank you enough," you'd told her. 

She'd smiled and waved you off, looking pleased. Now she leaned against a table in the common area with everyone else, people shifting nervously and no one looking each other in the eyes as you waited for Rick. You sighed and walked over to Shane, sitting in his lap without asking and sliding your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He leaned into your touch as Rick strode in from the sky walk, came down the stairs slowly, and paused with his rifle over his shoulder in the setting sunlight, like a dramatic son of a bitch. 

"Well. I guess we should vote," he said simply.


	73. Lie #73: "You Don't Need Me To Tell You That" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of past rape/non con  
mentions of past abuse  
light smut you know how I be

Shane leaned against the fence in the reinforced sky walk, one eye on the woods and one on the walkers below. The sun had set what he guessed was about an hour ago, and Shane figured someone would be coming up soon to take over. Slow, weary steps proved him right as he lifted the scope to his eye to scan again. 

Rick hooked his fingers into the fence and sighed. "How's it look?" 

Shane shrugged. "Lot of dead assholes. No movement other than that. Everyone on board?" 

"Carl's pissed." 

"Carl will get over it," Shane grunted as he lowered the rifle and turned to study his friend. "You ok, brother?" 

Rick grimaced. "I'm fine. I've gotta be, right?" 

"No, you don't." 

Rick reached for Shane's shoulder and gripped it, and Shane patted his brother's back. Rick sighed again. "I miss her." 

Shane felt his heart clench as he pulled Rick into a hug. "I know. I do too. She knew you loved her, man."

Rick sighed, sniffed, and thumped Shane's back as he pulled away. "Yeah. I hope so. Go inside; go to bed. Ace is looking for you." 

Shane hesitated. "You gonna be alright?" 

Rick took the rifle and met Shane's eyes. "I'm good. Get some rest. Tomorrow's gonna be rough." 

"You sure they're coming?" Shane asked, for probably the millionth time. "You sure about this whole thing?" 

Rick nodded. "Three days. That's what he said. We'd meet again in three days. Only I don't think he's going to wait there; I think he'll send some men to the feed store to make it look legit and bring the rest here. Merle agrees with me. So yeah. I'm sure." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and nodded once. "Well. Guess we'll see then. Don't stay out here all night, brother. Let Daryl relieve you like he's supposed to. You need rest, too." 

"Yeah, yeah. Go hold your woman," Rick said with a roll of his eyes. "She needs it. She's kinda pissed too." 

Shane groaned. "Yeah, I bet. She'll get over it just like Carl." 

"Try tellin' her that." 

Shane found her painting, like he'd known he would. He leaned on the wall and watched her for a minute, drinking in the familiar sight like he had been every chance he got for the past two days. 

She wore one of his shirts, big surprise, and jeans with frayed hems that were really too big for her. But as she'd said cheerfully when they'd last raided a house's closets for clothes, beggars can't be choosers. For someone with that attitude, she was awfully damn picky about her footwear, though, he thought with a smile. 

Tonight she didn't actually have shoes on, her bare toes on the cold floor as she rose on them like a ballerina to make another pass at the wall above her head. Shane stopped looking at her for a minute to look at what she was working on, and his smile grew. As usual, it was beautiful. As usual, it was pure Ace. 

A giant colorless hand looked like it was pulling back the grey wall like a curtain, to reveal a riot of colorful tags and images and graffiti phrases overlapping each other underneath. Ace was working on a tag that wasn't hers, but looked vaguely familiar to Shane, and he heard her huff impatiently when she studied it and went back in to fix some obscure issue no one could see but her. 

It was exactly the kind of thing he'd expect her to paint inside a prison, and he was grinning as he stepped closer and cleared his throat to maybe let her know he was there. If she was deep enough in the zone, she wouldn't hear him, but he had to try. He couldn't let her stay up all night to paint tonight, after all, and he didn't want to have to touch her to get her attention. He wasn't looking to get swung at tonight, mostly because she'd come over all guilty and he'd have to talk her out of feeling bad about it. 

She made another frustrated sound and glanced at him. "I can't get Jimmy's tag right." 

Shane blinked. "Who?" 

"Jimmy. Oh, sorry, you'd probably only have known him as Sk8r," she said, gesturing at the wall. 

Shane could hear the eight in the way she pronounced it, and it still didn't ring any damn bells. "What the hell you talking about, Slugger?" 

"My friend Jimmy. Street artist who went by Sk8r. I'm trying to do his tag, and I just-" she groaned again. "Oh, never mind, it's close enough I guess. Tell me what you think." 

Shane shook his head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think I missed the shit out of you speaking Greek to me about art, sweetheart. And the wall is a perfect 'fuck you' to the criminal justice system I tried to uphold." 

She bit her lip and tried not to smile, but humor danced in her eyes. "Yeah, well, I forgave you for being a cop awhile ago, Officer Walsh." 

"Gee, thanks," he muttered, and leaned in to kiss her. He pulled back and studied the wall again, and suddenly some of the riot of graffiti and tags started to look familiar. "These are real tags- and shit, honey, is that one a Vatos sign? Jesus Christ, Ace." 

"Yeah, I did a little of the shit side of street art. You know, for balance. Realism. This is what it looks like, after all. But all the tags, yeah- they're people I know personally or artists whose work I admire. Street art lives. It's a tribute," she said with a shrug and a sad look in her eyes. "They're my people, even if most of them are probably dead by now." 

"Yeah, I know. It's damn cool, but you don't need me to tell you that," he whispered as he kissed her cheek. 

"No, but it's nice to hear. I guess if you're off watch we should get some sleep, before this nonsense tomorrow," she said with a grimace. 

"Yeah." He scooped up her art bag and carried it for her, smiling at the smudge of purple on her neck and the streak of white paint in her hair. Goddamn he needed to get her some dye. 

She wrinkled her nose at him in their cell, unbuttoning the jeans and stepping out of them. "I still think this is a shitty plan." 

"I know," he said. "Do it anyway?" 

She sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping close to him and taking his face in her hands. She had black and red paint on her knuckles and Shane thought that looked uncomfortably like how his usually were, scraped and bruised and battered. He didn't like that, and he turned to press his lips to her palm. 

"I solemnly swear I will stay out of trouble and follow Rick's orders like a good little soldier," she said dryly. "On one condition." 

He looked at her, lifting an eyebrow at the way she said that and the look in her eyes. "And what's that condition?" he asked slowly, not sure he wanted to know. 

Her lips curved in a sly smile. "This might be the last chance we have, period or at least for a long time, if things go wrong. So you're going to fuck me tonight."

He was whistling as he swung into his Jeep, one hand tapping a message to Ace as he tried to get the key in the ignition without actually looking at what he was doing. 

\-- Thanks for the assist tonight, Slugger. She was fuckin' bendy. 

He hit send after doing one of those winking face things he hated- God knew why he did it other than that Ace loved them- and focused on his keys. His phone chimed about the time he was pulling his seat belt on and waving to the subject of his text, a cute little blonde named something that started with a D who was, in fact, downright flexible. She'd slid Ace her number, according to Ace, and asked her to pass it on to Shane. Shane had sent another drink the blonde's way, and Ace had, in disgust, rounded the bar and drug Shane by the shirt over to the blonde after they'd done some eye fucking for a couple hours. Ace had introduced them, Shane had leaned on the bar for a chat, and here he was. 

\-- I do not need to know that. Headed home? Couch is free if you need it.

Shane had been intending to head back to King County, but damn it, the bendy blonde had given him a workout and he was tired. He weighed the pros and cons of getting up early enough to make it to Carl's game verses getting home late tonight, and decided to err on the side of caution. 

\-- I'll take you up on that. See you in ten. Got Little League in the morning, might be gone before you get up

Though going to Ace's almost guaranteed he was going to be up later than the drive home would put him getting in. But who cared? He'd get to talk with her some, something he hadn't been able to do what with the crowd in the bar and the eye sex he'd been engaged in. And he wanted to tell her about the blonde- damn it, he really should have paid more attention to her name. She'd been bendy and creative, and he knew Ace would get a kick out of it. 

\-- bitch please, you'll wake me up growling about my coffee. Door's unlocked. Stop for Chinese; I'll call it in.

Shit, she was probably right about the coffee, he thought with a grin.

"Jesus, Slugger!" he snapped, staring at her. He wasn't sure if he was more shocked at her informing him he was going to do so or the brutally blunt way she'd just talked about things going wrong. Either way, he didn't like it.

On second thought, he couldn't be entirely sure he didn't like the first one.

She shrugged. "It's true. And you are."

He ran a hand over his face and shoved it through his hair, eyes closing as he swallowed. "I thought we were waiting." 

"We waited three more days, Dickhead. What, you want to miss this opportunity? Come on. Things are about to go sideways. Carpe diem," she said, voice sharp. 

He opened his eyes and looked at her, and she met his gaze and lifted an eyebrow in challenge, that little smirk on her lips. He shook his head slowly, knowing there was something off but not quite able to put his finger on what it was. She let her hands slide from his face to his shoulders, then started to fiddle with the collar of the Henley he wore. 

"Ok, Slugger. What's this about?" he asked slowly. 

Her eyes flicked to his and then down to his shirt again, her hand sliding inside the collar and her fingers tracing lightly over his tattoo. "Exactly what it sounds like." 

He snorted and grabbed her hand in his. "Nope. You know nothing's gonna happen unless you talk to me. So talk, damn it. Or crawl into bed and go the fuck to sleep, but know that's just delayin' the inevitable, girl. You don't get to say shit like this and not explain it." 

She looked like she wanted to be annoyed, frowning at his hand on hers and not looking him in the eye. Thing was, Shane had learned how to be a stubborn bastard from Rick fucking Grimes, and on this? On this, Shane would not budge. 

She wanted to fuck tonight, she was going to fucking talk first. Then he'd decide. Otherwise, he wasn't laying a goddamn finger on her. Shit, he'd go sleep in the common area or take over watch from Rick if he had to. 

"I… Shane, come on," she whispered, finally meeting his eyes. He studied the look in hers, trying to get a feel for what was going on inside her head. "I want- I want your hands on me." 

"Yeah, I'm gettin' that message loud and clear. Why?" 

"Why? Because I love it, you ass," she snapped with a roll of her eyes. "Want me to stroke your goddamn ego right now?" 

He didn't take offence at that, though he considered it briefly. "Nope. I want you to tell me why now, right now, with that fuckin' blunt of a delivery. Why you're being so- so not Ace-like about it. You only go for the shock factor when you're trying to manipulate me or prove a point, and I'm not giving in to either of those damn things. Not right now." 

She blinked and her face softened at the anger in his tone. "Oh, Shane- no, I swear, I'm not- Goddamn it," she whispered as her eyes filled. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm not trying to prove anything either, I swear." 

He swallowed again, hating the pain in her eyes but not able to do a damn thing about it until he knew what was happening right now. He swiped away the tears on her cheeks with his thumb, softening his voice as he asked her again. "Then tell me what this is about. Why now?" 

"Because I can't stand the idea of going into this shit still feeling his hands on me. I could lose you, Shane. I know, I know- fucking morbid, right? But this- it's so damn risky. And I won't be right there with you," she said, biting her lip as she met his eyes. "I'm scared. I'm scared and I want- I want to get rid of this- this lingering feeling of him on my skin. I want you to replace it with your touch, because I- I can't stand- I can't stand the thought of his hands being the last ones on me for the rest of my life, and if you're gone, then-" 

Shane stared down at her serious, shining eyes, the fear and the pain swirling in them, and damn him. He was helpless against that look. Helpless against that logic of hers, because he couldn't even begin to imagine having the ghost of someone else's touch, someone he hated, on him and her being gone. Shit, he couldn't even imagine her being gone. 

But goddamn it this wasn't- it was too fucking soon. It was too fucking soon, and he knew it, but she was pleading with him with those damn Dixon blue eyes and he was falling into them.

Even as he thought it was a fucking bad idea, he was lowering his lips to hers; he was twinning his fingers in her hair and pulling her close. 

She made that damn noise in the back of her throat again, the needy one that had nearly undone every ounce of his self-control a few days before, and it ripped him to shreds now. He broke the kiss with a gasp, pulling away far enough to shoot her a look. 

"Slugger, you tell me right now you aren't gonna think less of me for this tomorrow," he said desperately. "You tell me right now you want this for you, for us, and not to prove some damn shit to me about who you belong to, because I know. I don't- I don't need to fuck you to know you're mine, sweetheart, and I can't live with myself if that's what this is, you hear me?" 

She looked dazed and disheveled already, standing there with her hair in a mess from his hand, her lips parted and red and wet, in his shirt and no fucking pants. Shane's hands ached to touch her, his lips burned with the need to be on hers again or tasting her skin, and he was struggling hard not to throw her down on their hard as fuck mattress and do what he wanted to her, consequences be damned. 

How the hell did she do this to him? he wondered. At the CDC, she'd been drunk and he'd been tipsy and he'd known it was a bad idea and she'd convinced him to do it anyway with those damn hands and all that hair tumbling around her shoulders. On the farm, he'd been rage and violence and asshole behavior, and she'd undone him with just the way her eyes lingered on his lips and her pulse thundered under his fingers. And now- 

Now she reached one hand to him, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him back toward her, and her voice was low and needy and her eyes wild as she undid him again, and Shane knew it didn't actually matter what she said because this was a mistake they were going to make no matter what. He could only pray it wasn't the kind of mistake that damaged them- damaged her- too damn much to recover from, because if that was the case Shane would hurry his trip to hell right along with his own fucking gun. 

"Shane. My fucking hero, always making sure I'm ok," she said, staring into his eyes with those swollen lips brushing his as she spoke. "I know what I'm doing. I know what I'm asking. I know what I want, and Shane- it is and always has been you. Now, goddamn it, take what's yours. Please." 

"Jesus fucking Christ," he growled, and crushed his lips to hers.

For once there was a bed right there, but Shane wasn't ready to use it yet. She wanted him to take, he could oblige. He wanted to feel her knees go out and feel himself holding her up, and he was starting to think maybe it wasn't all Slugger's fault he always seemed to get a fucking workout when they did this. There was just something about having her in his arms like that, it just damn well did it for him.

He spun her around and pulled her back against him, lips to her neck and her ear as he worked the buttons on his shirt she wore again. Fucking thief, he thought fondly. Always had been. He'd have just ripped the thing off, but she'd bitch at him later about it, telling him it was her favorite. Then he'd have to ask Carol to sew the buttons back on, if he could find them all, and Carol would give him that amused look and make a comment, that was one conversation he wanted to avoid having. 

"You know something, Slugger?" he growled in her ear as he worked, and her hands slid up and down his arms as her head tipped back against his shoulder. "You have- you have no idea how much- shit, girl. You'd do this shit. Press up against me like this on the dance floor." 

He gave up on the buttons for the moment to grab her hips and pull her into him, hard, and unconsciously found himself circling his hips and hers a little in one of their typical moves. Her breath caught raggedly as he bit at her pulse and her arms slid up around his neck like they would have if they'd been tearing up a dance floor for real. 

He chuckled and ran his tongue up her neck at the same time he skimmed his hands up her sides, and finally said fuck it about the goddamn buttons. He'd just get her a new shirt if he had to. Or he'd crawl around the damn cell on his hands and knees to find every single one for her, because- 

Because he loved the shit out of her, and if that's what she wanted, that's what she'd get. 

He grabbed the edges of the shirt and ripped, and she let out a shocked and urgent sound that had him groaning against her neck. 

"Shit. You- Goddamn it," he muttered. He'd always been a talker, he supposed, but Ace- Ace wasn't into the kind of dirty talk he'd usually engaged in. And that wasn't what he wanted to say to her in moments like this anyway, moments when his hands were on her skin and she was lighting a fire in his blood with every breath they took. He didn't need to tell her what he was going to do to her; not when he could just fucking do it and show her instead. He needed to tell her what he felt for her; what she meant to him. What this- the ability to touch her, to run his hands over her body and hear her sigh and moan and whimper for his touch and call her fucking his- meant to him.

She moaned as he closed his hands over her breasts, writhing against him like she could hear the same goddamn music he could, and he wondered if that was all in his head or if the beat they'd always danced to was really this- the throbbing of their pulses and the roar of the fire between them. 

"You know how many times I tried not to think of you? Told myself you weren't the one on my mind?" he whispered now, ghosting his fingertips down her body again. He slid one hand inside the tiny bit of nothing she called underwear- lacy like her fucking bralette thing, and how the hell did she pull that off when she couldn't find pants that fir?- and she shuddered in his arms, breath catching in a sharp, urgent sound. "Do you know how often I had to push aside the idea of doing this, right there on the goddamn dance floor? Slipping my hand up your thigh and under whatever bullshit you were calling a skirt that night, using the lights and the shadows and the movement as cover. You know how often I wanted to feel you come apart with just this, this right here? Hell, Slugger. We practically fucked on the dance floor anyway; it wouldn't have taken much effort to make it real." 

He leaned his forehead to her shoulder and shivered as she moaned his name breathlessly, her hips moving to meet his fingers. He kept his pace slow, steady, needing her to understand; to feel how fucking crazy she'd driven him all those nights he'd tried to pretend he wasn't turned the fuck on by her in his arms, that it was just a natural reaction to a female all over him. All those night he'd gone home and collapsed on his bed and tried not to think about anything at all, and certainly not about laughing blue eyes and the press of a body to his and the way they moved together like one person. 

He must have been fucking delusional, for years, thinking she was just his friend. Shit, he thought now, his fist clenched in her shirt as she shivered hard and turned her face toward him with her eyes squeezed shut. He must have been a better fucking liar than he'd ever thought he was.

"Shane," she stammered out, one hand locked around his forearm and the other tangled in his hair when he upped his pace, just a little. Just to see what would happen. "Fucking hell, Shane." 

He laughed again. "You got some of that right, sweetheart," he teased, and nipped at her ear as she half-laughed and tugged on his hair. "Aw, Slugger. You know- every woman in my bed was just a shitty substitute for you. I compared every last one of 'em to that night. Every moment in the dark, by myself, I pushed away thoughts of you. And I didn't even- wouldn't even admit it to myself most of the time, but I did. Every fuckin' time, I'd think of you, coming undone up against your wall, my lips on your skin; wet and slick in your shower, water rolling off that damn stone in your navel; under me in your bed and sayin' my name. I'd tell myself-" 

She was close and he knew it, and he was going to put her over the damn edge, here in his arms with his words in her ear, and maybe she'd start to see. Maybe she'd start to understand. 

"I'd tell myself it was nothing, just 'cause I'd been texting you, or I'd seen you, or I hadn't done either of those things. But the truth is, my Slugger-there ain't never been a moment when I haven't wanted you so bad it hurt, and I am a goddamn fool," he growled as she tightened her grip on him and tipped over with a cry he drank down as he crushed his lips to hers. "I am a goddamn fool for not waking up the next morning and telling you that you were mine." 

"God, Shane," she whispered when her knees buckled. He wrapped his free arm around her and held her up even as he worked her ruthlessly through it, until she was boneless and breathless and spent leaning against him. 

He scooped her off her feet and into his arms so he could lower them both to the bed, his lips already crushing hers as her shaking hands gripped him and she squealed at the motion. He laid her down and stared at her, and she stared back, still clearly riding the high from what he'd already done to her. He smiled and ran his fingers down her cheek until she turned into his touch and her eyes fluttered closed. 

"Oh, I love you, Ace," he whispered. "And I am so not done with you yet, so don't get any fucking ideas about going to sleep on me." 

She shot out a surprised laugh and reached for him, hooking his jeans and sliding toward the button. "What's sleep? And sure as hell better not be done with me yet. I've got plans to send you to the fuckin' moon, Dickhead." 

"What, you think you can beat what I just did? Hell no. I saw your face. I win this round," he shot back with a grin, and she rolled her eyes. 

"That a challenge, 22?" she asked. She shot her hand down into his jeans before Shane could think, and- 

He grunted out her name and a curse as her fingers stroked over him and his eyes closed, and she laughed. 

"Who wins, again?" 

Damn her, he thought as she wiggled beneath him and sent his eyes rolling up in his head with one fucking fingertip sliding feather-light down the length of him.

"Shit, Slugger, I think- fuck me!- I think we both do," he groaned, grabbing at her hand and giving her a stern look. "Stop that. I said I had plans for you." 

She flashed him that challenging grin and tugged on his hair until he pressed his lips to hers. "Sounds good to me," she said with a smirk. "I'll get you back. And I love you too, Shane. Now come on- let's dance."


	74. Lie #74: “I Hate You So Much, Darlene” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence  
Mentions of past abuse

Shane curled around your back, between you and the cell door. He was doing that thing where he held you like a teddy bear, his face pressed to your neck and his hand gripping your shirt in a knot against your stomach. He shivered slightly and pulled you even closer, his arm going tight and tense around you. 

You frowned and stroked a hand along his arm, expecting the tension to ease. It didn’t. 

He snapped awake with a snarl instead, sitting upright and diving for his gun before he stopped and looked around the cell in the pale light, his eyes wide. He glanced down at the gun in his hand and looked disgusted, dropping it to the floor and shoving a hand through his hair as you reached for him. 

“Hey,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He shivered again and scrubbed his hand over his face, and you shifted closer and touched his cheek. “You ok?” 

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” He asked, voice rough with more than just sleep. 

You shot him a confused look. “Yeah? Shane, you were dreaming.” 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know.” He shoved a hand through his hair again before pressing it over his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You cuddled closer, not entirely sure what to do here. “What’s going on, hero?” 

He gave you an almost amused look and snorted, and your cheeks flamed for a minute before you shrugged. 

“Well, you keep saying I need a better pet name for you. And you’ve got the damn complex,” you teased. 

He did crack a smile at that and reached for your hand, tugging you up into his lap. You went willingly, knowing Shane needed you as close as he could get you sometimes, and God knew you weren’t complaining. He leaned against your neck and you started trying to straighten out some of the damage you’d done to his hair the night before. 

You’d hit a nerve, you thought smugly as he sighed and wrapped both arms around you, when you’d told him to take what was his. ‘Cause he damn sure had, and you felt delightfully used and satisfied and goddamn loved. 

“Talk to me,” you insisted now. 

He grunted and kissed your neck. “Just a nightmare, sweetheart. Just glad I didn’t go after you as I came out of it.” 

You bit at your lip and remembered slugging him in the jaw when you’d had one of your own. Funny how he always said he was the violent one, but you were the one who lashed out when startled. “Yeah, sorry,” you muttered. 

“Shut up, Slugger,” he said dryly. “You barely clocked me, and god knows I know better than to touch you when you’re out of it.” 

“Shouldn’t be a thing though.” 

He lifted his face from your neck to give you a look. “What’d I just say? Shut up with that shit. You think I don’t know why it is? ‘Cause most of the time you’ve been touched unexpected you’ve gotten hit. Stop it and kiss me, ok? Don’t like going for my gun when I’m half-awake and you’re right here. Don’t want to scare you. Or fucking hurt you.” 

You rolled your eyes even as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He sighed into it, his hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked after a bit.

He shook his head. "Naw. Nothing to say that I haven't told you already, sweetheart. Come on, we got a little time still. No one's moving yet. I want to hold you awhile longer." 

Well, you were hardly going to argue with that, now were you?

You stuffed clothes into your bag and snatched a flannel from Shane's- the one now missing half it's buttons, and you couldn't even be mad, because God- and wrapped it around you. It was starting to get cold as fall moved in, and your tank left your sides chilly. 

Also, you just wanted to keep the secure feeling of his arms wrapped around you, and this was as close as you could get. 

You glanced around the cell to make sure you'd gotten everything, and paused to look at the painting you'd done on the wall in here. It was different from your usual, and Shane had smiled when he saw it. 

It was your apartment, the floor just inside the door, and you'd done it all at floor level. Shane's boots sat side-by-side with your paint-splattered sneakers. His Sheriff's duffle was shoved under the counter next to your gear bag, and your beanie rested beside his hat on top of the bags. 

Seemed you loved the idea of him and you mixed together so damn much, you added more of your shit to the wall when there'd been plenty of it all around already, you thought with a roll of your eyes. But it looked like you'd gotten everything, and you tossed your pack over your shoulder and reached for his. 

"Here, I got it," Shane declared as you ducked from the cell, taking both bags from you despite your annoyed look. "Gear up, sweetheart. You need a rifle." 

"Why?" you complained. "I've got the goddamn Glock and a machete, and a skinning knife from Daryl and a pocket knife from Merle. I think I'm covered, especially since you're banishing me." 

"I am not banishing you, and a second gun is always a good idea. Need to get you an ankle holster and a little backup piece. Maybe a six-shooter like Rick's," Shane said, tone considering, and you shot him an incredulous look. 

"Shane, absolutely- oh, you jerk," you broke off when you realized he was laughing at you. "Fine! I'll take a goddamn rifle. I still think this is a bad idea. Rick! I should be with you." 

Rick glanced up from loading shit into the back of the Hyundai, and he sighed. Carl's shoulders jerked and his face was stony, and you knew the kid was just as pissed off about the plan as you were. 

"You know why-" Rick started, giving you his stubborn bastard look. 

You cut him off with a roll of your eyes and a wave. "Yeah, I know. I know. I just don't like it, and you can't make me." 

"Hell, sis, no one can make ya do much of anything," Daryl put in from behind you. 

You flipped him off without looking and accepted the rifle he handed to you as Shane added your bags to the Hyundai.

"Ya have some fun last night?" he asked in a low voice, eyes dancing. 

You glared, feeling your cheeks heat. "What?" 

"Shane," he said, a whispered version of a breathless moan. 

You slugged him in the shoulder and he cracked up, even as you felt your whole fucking face turning red. 

"Asshole." 

He shrugged and winked. "Don't wanna get teased, don't be so goddamn loud, sis. Besides, ya should just be grateful it was me heard ya and not your other brother." 

"Oh Lord," you mumbled, eyes going wide. If Merle had heard- 

"Relax, he was dead to the goddamn world," Daryl said with a jerk of his shoulder. "I, on the other hand, had to hear that shit. Imma go give your cop grief over it, and unless ya want me to do it loud enough for everyone to hear- ya know, like you two were- ya ain't gonna say nothin'." 

"I hate you so much, Darlene," you hissed.

He winked at you and strolled over to Shane, who shot a vaguely panicked glance your way as Daryl leaned against the wall and said something, that damn look in his eyes. Shane glared, his fist clenching, as he looked back at Daryl, who grinned before his face got serious. You frowned and started to step closer as Daryl said something else and Shane's shoulders relaxed. He clapped Daryl on the arm and headed over when Rick called his name, and your brother winked at you. 

"What the hell, you asshole?" you mumbled, taking a step his direction. 

"Who ya callin' an asshole, baby sis?" 

Apparently it was gang up on your sister day in the Dixon clan, you thought sourly as Merle's heavy arm draped over your shoulder. You glared up at his smug grin. "Your brother." 

"Aww, what he'd do? Tease you'n the cop about all that damn noise ya was makin' last night?" 

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, closing your eyes in despair. 

Merle laughed, long and loud, and wouldn't let you go when you tried to tug away. "Ya got part of that right, but from the sounds of it, ain't none of what ya was doin' in any way holy." 

"Someone kill me now, please," you begged the ground as your face flamed again. 

"He's right, you know, it didn't sound holy," Maggie put in. "On the other hand, it did sound fun, and Glenn and I say thanks for the inspiration." 

"There is something wrong with every single one of you people," you declared to the courtyard. "And with my jerk brothers in particular." 

"Aww, ya love us," Merle drawled easily. "Watch ya back out there, lil sis." 

You kissed his cheek, moved by the worry in his eyes he was trying to hide with his usual asshole behavior. "You too. Both of you," you added pointedly when Daryl strode up. 

He scoffed and tossed his head. "This shit ain't nothin'." 

"Overconfident much?"

He shrugged. "Naw. Just know it's gonna go our way. Ain't got another choice." 

Well, that was a sobering thought. You reached for both of them in turn, holding on tighter than maybe they- or you- would have expected. 

"I love you two bastards. Seriously, be safe," you whispered. 

They made identical uncomfortable scoffing noises, and you rolled your eyes at the typical Dixon inability to express emotion. Every damn one of you was as emotionally constipated as it got, but you were working on it. 

Hell, neither of them had dodged your hug or made a sexist comment, so that was progress. 

Shane grabbed your arm and hauled you around the corner, away from where the rest of the group wandered around shoving things in cars and doing all the last-minute shit that Rick's insane and weirdly likely to be effective plan called for. 

"What-" you started, but the next thing you knew you were backed against the wall and he was kissing you, hot and hard and you were so not about to complain. 

He had his hands on your face and you gripped his jeans at his sides and hauled him closer, until he was pressed all up against you and you could feel the rough brick of the wall digging into your back. You slid your hands up under his shirt to feel his skin against your fingers, needing his warmth just one more time before- before you said goodbye. 

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead to yours, his eyes closed and his face worried. You didn't close your eyes, even when your head started to hurt and your eye with the still-cracked socket started to go unfocused. You wanted to look at him, as much and as long as possible, because while it might work, Rick's plan was damn risky. 

And Shane, always the hero, was right in the thick of it. While you were banished to the sidelines. 

"I want to come with you," you whispered. "Watch your back." 

He sighed and shook his head, pulling back to look at you. "You know all the reasons why that's a bad idea." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Doesn't change how I feel about it. I- Shane, I'm- I'm scared." 

"Shit, Slugger, I am too." His thumb swept your cheek as he half-laughed. "We'd be crazy not to be." 

"Daryl and Merle aren't." 

"Exactly." 

The dry, matter-of-fact tone had you smothering a laugh, and he grinned. You leaned into his chest, settling your ear right over his tattoo. 

"Be safe," you ordered him. "That's not a question. It's a command." 

He laughed again. "Of course. Point me in the right direction and pull the trigger so I can get back to you, right? Watch your own damn ass, Ace. You ain't on easy street either, you know, even if it seems like it. Got my baby girl to keep an eye on, and she got some lungs. We need to know they're safe- Judy, Carl, Beth and Hershel. And I need to know you are," he admitted. 

"I know. Don't worry, I'll take good care of her," you promised. 

His fingers wound in your hair again. "I know. Kiss me some more before someone comes looking for us." 

Sure enough, it didn't take long. Daryl came around the corner, sighed and made a crude comment, and you and Shane both flipped him off and followed him back to the group anyway. Shane grabbed your hand and held it tightly enough that it almost hurt, and you held back just as hard. 

It was time to say goodbye, and you weren't sure you fucking could.

"Alright. Maggie, Glenn, Carol- get your gear and head to your positions. Daryl, Merle, Shane- we're going out the back, gotta lead 'em in. Ace-" Rick looked at you seriously. "I know you hate it." 

You sighed and stepped up, kissing Rick's cheek gently. "I'll take good care of your kids, Deputy Grimes. Don't worry. Just- watch yourselves. Watch each other. Please?" 

Rick smiled slightly and nodded. "I know you will. And I'll keep an eye on them. Keep Shane from doing anything stupid." 

"Notice he ain't said nothin' about us, lil sister," Merle drawled. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "That's because no one can stop you from being stupid, Merle." 

Everyone laughed, even Merle, and then it was time to go. 

You took a deep breath and shoved your hair from your face, already wondering if dying it had been the best idea. You loved the deep forrest green, but would anyone you interviewed with? Shit, you needed to this job, because bartender tips were a hell of a lot better than waitress' tips, and you had to get out of the hellhole you were currently renting. 

And away from the greasy spoon you spent way too many hours in. You needed better cash and time to work on your art and a halfway decent space to do it in, and you needed it yesterday, damn it.

The Whiskey Lullaby was a cool spot you'd hung out in more than once, and Maria- the owner of the gallery you kept wandering into to sketch and check out the local artists on the scene- had told you they were looking for a bartender. You'd only been legal for a week, and you figured that was going to work against you, but shit. You had to try right? And you could mix any damn drink anyone wanted, and do it with a smile.

Plus, goddamn, you had some ideas for the brick wall on the far end of the building. Maybe they'd let you paint on it, you thought as you climbed out and tugged the lines of your white button up straight. White would be best. Giant whiskey label, with the brand name being their logo- you could recreate their font easy enough. It'd be advertising for both you and them, right? 

And you were getting way ahead of yourself. Reel it in, Ace, you told yourself sternly, and headed for the doors with your shoulders back and a confident smile on your lips you absolutely did not feel.


	75. Lie #75: “No Presents For You, Slugger” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence  
Cannon typical violence  
Mentions of past abuse

Shane shifted impatiently in the darkness, wondering how fucking much longer this was going to take. Ace was out there in the goddamn woods, with Carl and Judith. She was safer there, he knew, than in the mess that was hopefully about to happen, but what if Rick was wrong? What if they didn't come like he thought they would, and they surrounded the place instead? What if they came through the trees and found them, and- 

"Easy, brother," Rick whispered, his hand gripping Shane's shoulder. 

Shane snarled. "I'm good." 

"No, you're not." 

Shane glared at Rick, who shrugged and leaned against the wall. 

"We're waiting, you might as well talk." 

Shane scoffed. "Nothing to talk about. Besides, we gotta- we gotta focus." 

"Have it your way," Rick said. "But there's something on your mind, brother." 

"Course there is. Killing that bastard," Shane grunted back. "Wish he'd hurry up and get here, so I can get started. Gonna make it nice and slow." 

Rick shot him a look partly concerned and partly amused. "You're more riled up than you have been. Thought sleeping with her would settle you down some." 

"Is our sex life all anyone in this damn group can talk about?" Shane complained, shoving his hand through his hair and pacing a couple steps away and back. 

Rick half-laughed. "Well, you know. Mine's not that interesting. Real short conversation after all." 

"Might even be over already?" Shane said dryly, and he and Rick exchanged a grin. Back on the farm, Rick had tried to get Shane to talk by starting in on Shane's high school love life. It had worked, much to Shane's dismay, and then Rick had been teasing him about Ace. So Shane had fired back about Rick's own conquests, and Rick had laughed and declared there to be not much to talk about there, so little in fact the conversation was already over. 

Then Shane had turned into an asshole about Sophia, and he and Rick had fought. Maybe not the memory he wanted to bring up before they were about to get into some shit together. 

"I don't know, man," Shane said wearily. "I had- I had this- this dream. Fuckin' nightmare." 

"You do that often?" Rick asked, his cop voice on. 

Shane snorted. "Naw, brother. I mean, sometimes, like everyone. Hell, we saw some shit, even before all this. I talked to a shrink for some of those kills, they said it was normal. Don't freak out." 

Rick rolled his eyes and waved for Shane to continue. 

"Anyway, this one. It was her. It was about her, not me. That bastard had her again, and I- I couldn't-" he cut off and looked away, rage and fear making his hands start to shake. He clenched them into fists instead, and sighed. "I need him to be dead. For her, and for me." 

Rick nodded. "He will be. Soon." 

Shane snarled again and went back to staring at the darkness. Something exploded outside and he jumped. Yeah, here they went.

There were more explosions, the echoing of shots being fired filling the tombs before silence dropped again. Then the cell doors clanged open loud enough Shame and Rick heard it in the tombs. Shane shot Rick a half-grin and shrugged. 

“You were right,” he whispered, and got a good grip on his gun. 

“We’re not lookin’ to kill, brother,” Rick reminded him. 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Only that one-eyed bastard and Malcolm fuckin’ Hall. I know.” 

“Yeah, just reminding you.” 

"I'm gonna bring her his head on a stick. She'll fuckin' love that," Shane muttered, and Rick shot him that worried look again. 

Like Rick had a leg to stand on, what with phone calls on unplugged phones and shooting at Lori who wasn't there and whatever the hell he'd been doing in the lower levels after Lori's death. Shane was pretty sure Rick still had the bullet Carl had shot Lori with in his pocket, so in Shane's opinion Rick could kiss his fucking ass. If he wanted to bring Malcolm's reanimated head to Ace for her to have the pleasure of putting down into second death, he fucking well would. She liked presents anyway, and he hadn't exactly been able to bring her many since the end of the world.

They went silent again as they heard the door to the tombs open. Rick gestured, Shane nodded, they waited. It didn’t take long. 

Ace stood with her back to the world across the street from him, her headphones on and a coffee in her hand. Shane watched as she tipped her head to the sun and swayed a little, and he wondered what sappy pop nonsense she was listening to now. 

Woman was nuts about the kind of sugary sweet love songs that made Shane’s teeth ache, but he had to admit a few of them weren’t entirely awful. That Ed Sheeran could sing, he’d decided, and Adele has some lungs on her. 

Ace leaned closer to the wall, sipping absently and running her fingertips lightly over part of the painting. Shane figured he’d better look at the damn thing so he could have an opinion when she asked, but she tossed her hair over her shoulder and he got distracted by the way the movement brought sixteen shades of color to the surface, where before he’d just seen ‘dark’. What the hell even was that kind of color? 

He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her, then kept snapping as she turned and scanned the street like she was looking for him. 

When she saw him she grinned, and he snapped that picture too as she pulled the headphones off her ears and started toward him. Shane laughed and held up his hand, gesturing that he’d come to her. She rolled her eyes but pointed over her shoulder excitedly at the mural as he pushed the button for the crosswalk. 

She kept making ridiculous faces at him while he waited, and rolled her eyes again when he looked both ways before crossing the street. 

As soon as he hit the curb on her side, she shrieked out “Dickhead!” and launched herself in his direction. Shane snorted and braced himself, fixing an annoyed look on his face when she pulled back from hugging him throughly. 

“You gotta work on your greetings, Slugger. Getting us a few irritated looks,” he informed her. 

She rolled her eyes again, but the smile never left her lips. “Yes, Officer. I missed you! How was… where the fuck were you again?” 

He laughed. “I missed you too. I was up at Langley, in Virginia. Training.” 

“Yeah, that. Seriously you were there for like a month and I heard from you twice. Phones broken or something?” She gave him a disgruntled look and Shane reached up to pull on the ends of her oil-slick hair. 

“Not broken, but they took our cells during the day, and I was sleeping at night, Slugger. Training was intense,” he said with a shrug. “Especially the hand-to-hand techniques. I’ve got some nice bruises still; those federal bastards are tough shit.” 

Her eyes went concerned, but her tone stayed mocking and light. “Well, fine, I guess sleep’s important. You know, for the weak.” 

Shane snorted at her. “Just for that, I might not give you your present.” 

She blinked at him. “What?” 

“Yeah, I brought you something. But if you’re gonna be a bitch, I might not give it to you.” Shane shrugged and crossed his arms, biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing at the contortions her face was doing. 

She looked like she couldn’t believe he’d brought her a gift, and he guessed he wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t Christmas or her birthday or anything, but he’d seen it and thought of her immediately. So he bought it. 

“You brought me a present?” She finally said, sounding and looking so damn confused he couldn’t hold back the laugh anymore. 

“Yep. You want it?” 

She blinked at him again and lifted one hand to bite at her thumbnail. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Yeah, cause that’s not how presents work,” he fired back, finally not able to help it anymore. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the box. He turned it in his hands as her eyes fixed on it, trying not to start laughing again. 

She looked like she thought it might explode or disappear, and he was starting to wonder if that asshole she was dating ever bought her anything at all. She was acting like no one had ever found something they thought she’d like and brought it to her before. 

“So, I think, if you want it, I’m going to need an apology from you,” he said pointedly. 

She smirked at him at that. “For what?" 

"'Sleep is for the weak.' You ever spent a week getting your ass handed to you by professionals and attending hours-long lectures with information you'll not only be tested on, but that your life may depend on? Shit. Then do it for three weeks in a row!" 

She shrugged. "I don't know, it sounds an awful lot like high school to me. Thought that ego only needed stroking in the sack; didn't know it was so damn fragile it couldn't handle a little teasing." 

"Shit," Shane said, shoving the box back into his jacket. "No presents for you, Slugger." 

"Awww," she pouted, poking her lip out dramatically. 

Shane thought about biting it and making her gasp, like he had that night they'd slept together, but he shoved that thought to the back of his mind with a reminder that this was Slugger. He'd been too damn busy and too damn tired for much in the way of male-female fun up in Langley, and now that he was back he was feeling that itch, was all. 

Though there'd been one instructor, and she'd been- 

Shane shoved thoughts of the tough, aggressive shooting instructor with the bullet body back out of his mind as Ace sighed heavily. 

"Fine!" she declared, drawing the word out. "I'm very sorry I insulted your fragile masculinity by implying you're weak for needing sleep. Your job is very hard and you're a hero." She batted her eyes at him innocently, and he pretended he couldn’t see the humor bubbling in them or the way she couldn’t quite keep her lips from quirking up.

He eyed her with mock suspicion, both of them still standing in the middle of the sidewalk and ignoring the annoyed looks as people flowed around them. She cracked first, breaking into a sniggering laugh that she tried to cover but couldn't, and Shane started cracking up with her. 

"Oh, I missed you, Slugger," he said after a bit. "Come on, let's get out of the middle of the path and I'll give you your present so you can talk my ear off about whatever makes that particular wall so special." 

"How do you know it's special?" she asked, tilting her head and falling into step with him easily. "If you don't know why it is?" 

He snorted. "Because you were so damn absorbed in it you missed the near-accident in the middle of the intersection. And cause of the way you were looking at it. Here, take your present before you try to pick my pocket, you thief." 

She grinned and took the box from him. "Who are you calling a thief? I've never stolen anything from you!" 

"My beanie? My plaid shirt? My jacket nearly every time we're together?" he shot back. 

"I give the jacket back," she muttered, but she was looking down at the box and not paying attention anymore. 

Shane bit his lip as she worked the lid off and peeled back tissue paper, curiosity filling her eyes. She blinked once and positively beamed, and Shane knew he'd been right to buy the damn thing when she started laughing. 

"Shane, it's- it's perfect! Where on earth?" 

He laughed as she looked up at him and shrugged. "Some little tourist trap place shared a building with this glassblower, local artist. The tourist trap was shit, but the glassblower- Ace, you'd have been in heaven. I showed him some of your stuff, 'cause he had this piece on his wall that was as incredible as the glass. He loved your work; said his wife- who did the mural- would have flipped over it." 

She was hanging on his every word, but she looked confused. "How'd you show him my work, Dickhead?" 

"I've got pictures on my phone," he dismissed that with a wave. "And that one you did on a napkin in my wallet, but I didn't pull that one out. Anyway, he had all these bottle stoppers, said they were a big hit with the tourists. I saw this one and it just screamed Ace," he finished. 

She pulled it out and looked at it, and Shane took the box from her when she started to tuck it under her arm to inspect the stopper better. It was clear blown glass with a black rubber seal, the decorative top part shaped like a fucking paintbrush. The ends of the brush were blue glass, looking so much like the damn thing had been dipped in paint that Shane had touched it to see if it was wet before he'd thought. 

Art and booze, perfectly combined in a delicate, beautiful form. How the hell could he not have bought it for her? 

She looked up into his eyes again, looking soft and happy with a faint flush of color rising on her cheeks that called to him. So he brushed his lips across one of them lightly and she sighed a little. 

"You like it?" he asked, handing her back the box. 

She nestled the thing back into place and beamed at him again. "Like it? I love it. No one's ever brought me something just because it made them think of me. I'm honored." 

Shane rolled his eyes at that. "Shit, girl. Your damn boyfriend needs to step up his game." 

She made a face, opening her mouth to defend the asshole like normal, and Shane waved it off and talked over her. He'd missed her, and he didn't want to fight about that dick. 

"Come on, show me this wall. Tell me what's so special about it," he demanded. "I know you're dying to." 

He tucked the box back in his jacket pocket for her when she frowned at it, and she practically vibrated in place as she started talking. 

Whispered voices and small clatters and clangs told him they were getting close. Rick held up a hand, pulled the pin on the flashbang, and flashed Shane a countdown. Five. Four. Three. Two. 

A flashlight beam swept over the doorway he and Rick were hiding in, and they pulled back. 

One. 

Rick lobbed the grenade and Daryl, down in the boiler block with a watch and an impatient Merle, hit the alarms right on schedule. Chaos ensued immediately and Shane slipped into the lights and smoke and screaming looking for Malcolm fucking Hall. 

The Governor's people ran, especially when the walkers the Dixons had coaxed into the tunnels- didn't require much work, just a couple dead squirrels in strategic locations- came for the noise and the warm bodies. Shane and Rick followed along at their heels, chasing them out of the prison and meeting up with Daryl and Merle as they did. 

Shane sent a hot look Daryl's way, and he shook his head slightly. 

Goddamn it, they hadn't seen Hall either. 

The one-eyed bastard was there, surrounded by his people, as Shane followed them out into the sunlight. Maggie and Glenn and Carol were shooting up the place, wearing riot gear and hidden away in a couple of the perches that they'd worked damn hard to reinforce without being obvious. Some of the Governor's militia returned fire, but for the most part they were all just running and hiding and trying to get themselves to safety. 

Shane added his gun to the mix, firing at people's feet and at the Governor's fucking head when he poked it out from around the filing cabinet he'd taken cover behind. 

"Do you see him anywhere?" he snarled at Daryl when Dixon appeared at his elbow. 

Daryl scanned, shot twice at receding backs, and shook his head. "Naw. Thought I saw him, in the group came mine and Merle's way, but lost track and didn't see 'im again." 

Shane snarled as the Governor broke for the trucks with his men covering him, and Shane and Daryl both took their shots. Nothing hit, and then-

Then he saw him. 

"Fuck," Shane snarled, and took off back into the cells. 

He'd been in the trees. Shane saw the man, saw him stop and turn and study the prison as the Governor's people loaded into the trucks. He'd gone through the tunnels and slipped out the back, where they had broken down their barricades to let the walkers in through the big ass hole they did not have time to rebuild yet. 

Shane ran recklessly through the tunnels, ducking or shooting walkers as he went, and when his gun clicked he shot out the empty magazine, left it on the ground as he came out into bright sunlight, and shoved the spare in place as he headed for the trees. 

Shane didn't care how much of a colossally dumb and reckless and maybe suicidal idea chasing him down like this alone was; Malcolm fucking Hall was not getting away again. Malcolm fucking Hall was his, damn it.


	76. Lie #76: “We Got This, Grimes” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon divergence   
Cannon typical violence  
Past domestic violence/abuse  
Past rape/non con

You paced. For awhile you held Judith and paced, but when that got too much and it occurred to you that if you had to fight you were going to be severely hampered by the baby, you passed her to Beth reluctantly. 

It was Shane's daughter, after all, and you needed to keep her safe. But you couldn't guarantee that if she wasn't right there in your arms. Just like you couldn't guarantee Shane would be safe because you weren't there watching his back. Or your brothers' backs. 

Everyone you loved was down there in that place, and you couldn't do anything to help them but stand here and stare or pace and stare. 

Something fucking exploded. 

The rifle was against your shoulder before you thought, and you were heading toward the prison when Carl's small, stubborn face appeared in front of you. 

"Ace, you can't go," he said firmly. You stopped and stared, flinching as something else exploded in the distance and the cracking echoes of gunfire filled the air. 

Every pop felt like you were getting stabbed. And you should know. 

"Carl, I have to-" 

He set his jaw and gave you a look that was pure Rick Grimes under his dad's hat, and you blinked. His eyes flashed, he tipped his head slightly and gestured with the gun in his hand. "You can't. I know you want to, but this is important too." 

"He's right," Hershel said softly. 

You turned and looked back at the old man, his crutches under his arms and that kindly look on his face. He stood beside the driver's door of the Hyundai, open and waiting. Beth stood anxiously beside him, Judith drinking from a bottle in her arms. Beth's eyes were wide with worry as she looked between you and the distance were that bastard was shooting up the place you'd started to call home. 

Judith smacked one little fist against the bottle and made an unhappy noise, and your eyes closed. 

"Goddamn it," you whispered. Your hands tightened on the rifle as you fought with yourself, flinching with the ringing of yet another explosion through the trees. 

Then, blessedly, that stopped. It was almost worse. 

You opened your eyes and nodded slowly, wrapping an arm around Carl's shoulders. "Come on, kid. I'm good. Thanks." 

He nodded, leaning into your side just a touch. You knew he was just as scared and worried as you were. After all, he only had the one parent left- who hadn't been doing so hot in the mental health arena, for that measure- and that parent was down there in the nonsense just like Shane, Daryl, and Merle. Carl had been, if it was possible, more annoyed by being sidelined than you. 

What was worse was neither of you could argue the logic. The non-combatants- Hershel, Beth, Judy- needed to be protected, and Carl was a kid whether anyone liked to remember that or not- including him. And you? Well, you still had the busted ribs hanging you up, and the men in your life had ganged up on you in a show of Neanderthal attitude that had lead to some hurled insults, a couple of creative female names for everyone, and one moment when you seriously contemplated punching Merle in the jaw. 

He'd given you a lazy grin and reminded you he was the one who taught you to punch in the first place, so bring it on lil sis. 

Eventually you'd agreed because what else could you do? But you still thought Carol should have been out here and you should have been in her place. After all, you were a better shot than she was. 

Shane had cheated, as he was developing a distressing tendency to do, by taking your face in his hands and asking you with those puppy eyes to watch out for his baby. You'd been helpless to argue, but Christ you needed to thicken your skin up if he was going to keep pulling that shit.

"They're gonna be ok," Carl said firmly. "It's Dad, and Uncle Shane, and Daryl." 

"Yeah, kid," you agreed, but you were chewing on your thumbnail as you lapsed into silence and kept staring.

It was quiet for long enough that you almost puked. Then, because nothing would actually be better until you were standing in front of them and seeing that they were ok with your own damn eyes, the alarms started blasting around the prison and the shooting started again, and that also made you want to puke. 

You hoped like hell it was your people springing their trap successfully and not them getting slaughtered. 

"Ok, troops," you said slowly. "Walkers are going to be coming toward that damn racket. Keep your eyes peeled. Beth, Hershel, get in the backseat, ok? Just in case." 

Beth slid into the door with Judith now asleep in her arms, thank God. You nodded firmly to her and smiled, and she offered a tight, worried smile back. Hershel made his way to the other side and sat as well, and you glanced down at Carl. He looked up at you and nodded once, and you nodded back. 

"We got this, Grimes." 

Footsteps were ringing through the trees, coming up fucking fast. 

You whipped around and gestured the Greenes and Judy out of the car. Then you grabbed Carl and pulled him to the far side, all of you crouched. 

"Carl. Stay here; stay hidden; cover them. Use the car. I'm hitting the trees, ok?" You slung the rifle from your shoulder and passed it to Hershel, eyes steady on Carl’s.

"But, Ace-" he started, and you pointed wordlessly, eyes hard. He nodded, but holy shit he did a pissed look as good as Rick's too. 

That kid was shaping up to be a force to fucking reckon with, you thought as you ducked behind a tree and started to work your way around from cover to cover. Daryl and Merle were mocking you in the back of your head, rolling their eyes with every twig snap and leaf rustle you couldn't help. 

Was it your fault fuckin' Will always wanted you near the cabin to cook and clean and do other 'girl shit' instead of taking you into the woods and teaching you this bullshit? No, it was not. And besides, you were a damn sight better than you'd been before the end of the goddamn world, so your brothers could take their sniggering criticism and shove it up their- 

Oh, of fucking course, you thought as a wave of fear and nausea rolled through you and rooted you to the spot. Of course. 

Your hands shook, but you wrapped them firmly around the Glock and ordered your fucking feet to move. 

See the thing was, you'd always been one to freeze or try to soothe or deflect or whatever when confronted. But that wouldn't work here, and- 

And it didn't matter, you found as your feet followed your commands in a move that surprised even you. You stepped soundlessly over the leaves, suddenly a thousand times better on the forest floor as you angled for the best shot you could get. It didn't matter that for years you'd let Malcolm fucking Hall beat you down and tried to appease him instead of fighting back. It didn't matter that normally the sight of his eyes looking like that would have had you a shaking mess of stammering, calculating fear, looking for a way out that would hurt the least. 

You were fucking fighting this time, you thought grimly. The Glock came up, a two-handed grip you could almost feel Shane's hands over yours adjusting slightly, and you stepped from the trees with it trained on him, center mass. You'd chosen your position so there was no risk to your own people, because the reason it didn't matter was Shane's baby back there behind that car. 

Shane's baby, Shane's nephew, Hershel, Beth- turns out, when it wasn't just you on the line, the housecat of your temper became a fucking Dixon tiger. 

"Freeze, Malcolm," you said, and your voice didn't waver at all. 

He turned to look at you and smiled, lifting his hands in surrender with his own gun dangling from his fingertips. "There you are, Ace. I've been looking for you. Found your cop, I saw. Always knew you were putting out for him behind my back." 

"Shut up and drop the gun right now." Your voice had cooled even more, and you shifted your fingers slightly on the butt of your Glock so you didn't stiffen up. 

Mal chuckled and shrugged, and let his gun fall from his fingers. He was eyeing you that way he did, condescending indulgence, like you were a mildly intelligent child who had no idea what anything really was. Your teeth ground together against the nausea and nodded at the gun. 

"Kick it toward me." 

He sighed and did so, but you didn't relax. 

"Now step away from the Hyundai, back toward the trees, you bastard," you ordered. 

He smirked at you and shuffled toward the trees. "You're not going to shoot me, Ace." 

"Yeah? I'm not so sure about that," you snapped. "Come on, get away from it. Now." 

"No, you're not," he said, shaking his head and half-laughing. His hands dropped slightly and your eyes narrowed, but he did as you said and took another step. "I know you, you see. You don't have the spine to shoot me. I beat all the fight out of you, didn't I? Me and your daddy." 

"Oh, shut the fuck-" 

You cut off in surprise and jerked your gun down to point at the ground when a blur came from the side and slammed into Malcolm. You blinked rapidly as your brain tried to process the fact that Shane Walsh had just come out of fucking nowhere and tackled Mal. 

He was now currently wrestling with him for the upper hand, and you had flashbacks to Ed and to Shane fighting with Rick. It should have been over quick and easy, and the Malcolm you knew before the end of the world wouldn't have had any idea what to do with Shane in a rage like this. But this Malcolm was a survivor, like you, and he'd learned a few things on the road. 

And goddamn it, he and Shane were too intertwined for you to get a clear fucking shot. 

Shane had the upper hand but not by much, and Mal bucked him off in a move you thought looked vaguely familiar. Suddenly you wondered if he'd been getting lessons from Merle while they were under the Governor's rule, and the churning fear threatened to swamp you at the thought. 

Merle was a fucking brawler, born and bred. Merle could take on anyone and survive, and if he'd taught that to Mal- 

Wait, what were you thinking? This was Shane. 

Mal's fist collided with Shane's face and Shane- Shane laughed. 

You stared as they circled each other a little, Shane swiping at blood on his lip and shaking his head slightly. 

"Oh, Hall, am I glad to see you again." 

"Really?" Mal sneered. Mal had a cut above his eye trickling blood like Shane's split lip, and he tossed his head to send a droplet spraying. "I would have thought I was the last person you wanted to see, Deputy Asshole." 

"That the best insult you've got?" Shane's tone was so- so fucking amused. 

What caveman bullshit was this? You jerked a little and raised the Glock again, trying to get a clear shot at Malcolm, but it wasn't working. Shane wouldn't stay out of the line of fire, and with him here and in danger, your hands were now shaking so badly you didn't trust your aim. 

"Ace?" Carl hissed behind you. 

"Stay behind the car," you snapped. "All of you." 

"Slugger, you ok?" Shane asked, not taking his eyes from Malcolm. 

"I'm fine. Get out of my line of fire," you snapped. 

He shook his head. "Can't do that, sweetheart. I said it'd be slow. Bullet's too damn fast." 

"Are you shitting me? Shane-" you started, but Malcolm cut you off. 

"Oh, that's what this is? This is- you think you're gonna what? Kill me slow as revenge? Please," he scoffed. "I'm going to rip you to shreds with my bare hands. I've learned some things, Deputy. Then I'm going to take my girl back home with me, and she and I are going to have a little conversation about the definition of loyalty." 

"You're not laying another goddamn finger on her," Shane growled, and flew in at him again. 

They moved too damn fast for you to process, staring at it with your pulse pounding in your ears and your feet rooted in place. Then they resolved themselves again, Mal on the ground and Shane with a knee on his chest in a position that looked far too familiar. You'd been in it, with Mal's knee digging into your sternum and stealing your air like Shane was currently doing. 

You leaned over and started heaving, and Shane's attention snapped to you. 

"Slugger?" he asked, and you waved him off as you stayed bent double. 

Mal snarled, Shane let out a grunt, and when you stopped puking and looked again they were eyeing each other warily. Mal shook his head and smirked. 

"Told you I've learned some things," he said with a shrug. 

"Yeah, yeah. You think you’re tough shit, but you're just a bottom-feeding abusive asshole," Shane snapped back. "And you're never getting near her again." 

“You don’t know her like I know her. She’s mine,” Malcolm said, and Shane laughed. He actually laughed. 

Mal took advantage of that and suddenly Malcolm had an arm around Shane's throat and your heart was in yours. Shane looked completely unconcerned, giving you a reassuring glance as he spoke through gritted teeth.  
  
“Oh man. That’s rich. You think you know her? Fuck. What’s her favorite color? Who’s her favorite artist, song, book, movie? Can you look at a piece and know what mood she was in when she got the idea? Hell can you even identify her work when you see it on the street? Cause I don’t think you can.”  
  
Mal rolled his eyes and leered at you. “Do you know how she got that scar?”  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Shane fired back. “Do you know what side she likes to sleep on? Do you know what she sounds like when she’s about to cry? Oh wait. You probably do know that. You’ve made her cry often enough.”  
  
Malcolm sneered and started to speak, but Shane cut him off.  
  
“Do you know what she wore to her first showing? Do you know what pieces she sold or even how many of them there were?”  
  
“I know how she and I celebrated when she got home.” 

Oh God, oh God, you knew how you'd celebrated when you got home, too. You'd thought he was going to be with Grave Behavior all night, and you'd stayed until three am with Shane and Maria, drinking champagne and talking and laughing and marveling at how amazingly well that had gone. You'd sold more than half your pieces, and you were flush with cash and full of excitement when you got to your apartment and found him waiting. 

Shane had questioned why you were wearing long sleeves the next night at the bar- as had Jason and Ellie- and you'd shrugged and told them it was laundry day. You'd almost gone to a doctor a week later, when you still ached and when sex with Mal was still agony.  
  
Shane’s eyes were on your face and his expression twisted while he snapped out a harsh laugh. “You mean how you raped her and beat the shit out of her when you got her home. Asshole.” 

You watched Mal's eyes change and you started to cry out a warning, but Shane did something complicated to Mal's arm and tossed him over his shoulder to land flat on his back one the ground. Shane twisted the arm he still held into a joint lock and wrenched it, and Mal screamed as you heard the pop.

Shoulder, you guessed, or elbow. Shane's smile was predatory at the sound, but Mal was vicious when cornered. Shit, Mal was vicious all the time, and right now he was fighting for his life and he knew it. He knew Shane was playing cat-and-mouse with him, and that you were waiting to put a bullet in him if that didn't work. 

He kicked at Shane's knee and connected, at least enough to have Shane grunting and staggering a little, and Mal was up and panting through gritted teeth, clutching his arm that hung wrong. So shoulder then, you thought. Shane swiped at his mouth again and his body tensed, and you were suddenly done with this nonsense. Sure you wanted Mal to pay, but you didn’t want Shane beaten up in the process and he had blood on his lip and blood on his knuckles and probably injuries you didn’t see yet.

You snapped the gun up, fired once, and Mal jerked and went down. 

You were puking again, on your hands and knees, and you really needed to be standing damn it. But your body wouldn't obey, and even with the already-minimal contents of your stomach having been purged, you kept heaving and crying and not fucking standing. 

"Slugger. Shit, sweetheart, I need you to look at me. Come on, baby, please." Shane's voice reached you through the throbbing of your pulse and your own shuddering breaths, and you realized he was crouched in front of you and sounding increasingly desperate. 

You managed to focus on him as your teeth started to chatter with sudden, impossible cold. Too cold for even the onset of fall to account for, and- 

"There you are. You're ok. Ace, I'm gonna- I'm gonna touch you, ok?" Shane said slowly, and he reached for your arm. 

You scrambled up and flung yourself against him, and he grunted in pain as you hit. You started to back off, but his arms locked around you, and the next thing you knew you were in his lap with your face pressed into his neck and his hands moving all over you.

"You're ok. You're ok, Slugger. You're ok," Shane whispered in your ear. 

You wondered if he was trying to reassure you or himself. 

"Shane," you got out through the clattering of your teeth and the infernal fucking trembling. You clutched at his shirt and pushed yourself away enough to look between him and Malcolm's body on the ground. "Shane, I- I killed him. I killed him. I've never- I've never-" 

"Naw, you didn't," he told you, his hand sliding slowly over your cheek. His hand was so damn warm and you were so damn cold, but his knuckles were battered and bloody again and you wondered if the man would ever let his goddamn hands heal before he broke something else in them. 

At this rate, he'd be lucky to be able to make a fucking fist in a few more months.

"I killed him, Shane," you heard yourself repeat. 

Shane snorted and kissed your forehead. "No, you didn't. He took it in the side, and it took him down, but it wasn't a kill shot. He's still alive. He's in- he's in excruciating pain, but-" 

He sounded entirely too pleased by that, you thought dully. "Shouldn't- shouldn't we-" 

"I told you it'd be slow and painful, Slugger. Soon as I'm sure you're ok, I'm going to go over there and cut his fuckin' balls off," Shane snapped. "Maybe feed them to a goddamn walker."

Your stomach churned and your head swam at that. "Shane." 

He focused on you. "Seriously? After everything he did to you, you want- you want to end it for him already?" 

You closed your eyes and nodded once. "I just want him dead, Shane. I want to know it's over. Besides, Carl's watching," you whispered. 

When you opened your eyes again, Shane was staring at the Hyundai, where Carl stood in front of Hershel and Beth and Judith, his gun drawn and held professionally and his eyes fixed on you. 

"Ace? You ok?" he called anxiously, and you nodded, finding a smile to reassure him. He really was a good kid. 

He nodded back, and then he looked behind you and his eyes widened.


	77. Lie #77: "Yeah, Girl, Catch You Later" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
major character death (cannon)  
mentions of past abuse  
mentions of past rape/non con

Shane couldn't believe what he was seeing. He fired into the trees, emptying his goddamn magazine into them at the running back of Malcolm fucking Hall. Somehow the asshole had gotten to his feet and taken off while Shane had been distracted, and there was no way the man should have been able to do that. Or that Shane should have missed every single shot.

"He's a fuckin' cockroach!" Shane yelled, shoving his gun into his holster and starting for the trees after him. 

The bastard's shoulder and elbow were shattered, Shane knew. And Slugger had shot him in the side. She'd probably missed anything major, and if it was a through-and-through like he thought it was, the man might just manage to survive if he got himself some first aid. 

Not again, Shane thought darkly. Not again. 

Ace latched onto his arm. "Shane." 

He whirled and stared at her too-pale face as she shivered. Her eyes were huge and glassy and looked like they had after Ed had hit her, when she'd fallen apart in his tent. Shane shot an agonized look from her to the trees where Malcolm fucking Hall was getting away, but- 

Her eyes met his and she shivered again, and Judith sent up a wail that Beth immediately shushed. 

Goddamn it. Goddamn it. 

Shane pulled Ace close to him, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try to give her some warmth as his mind whirled several steps ahead. "Come on, get in the car. All of you, get in the car. We're going back. Ace, sweetheart, I gotta drive, ok?" 

He'd get them back, he decided, and make sure everything was good there. Then he'd grab at least one of the Dixons and track that bastard down and end it. Nothing fancy or fun this time, just a shot to the heart or a knife to the throat. Simple and easy.

Then he'd bring her Malcolm's head, like he'd told Rick. 

He opened Ace's door for her and pulled her out, pleased to see she looked better already after the short drive up to the place. Of course, now she was staring around at the smoke billowing from the towers and the destroyed inner gate and the walkers starting to drift into the field, and he could see her mind starting to churn. 

"Jesus, Shane, did-" she whispered, turning to him with fear back in her eyes. 

"Everyone's fine, Slugger," he assured her. "They're resealing the back right now, I'm sure. Come on, let's get you guys inside." 

He took them in, glancing around the trees as he did and cursing the time lost that meant that fucking asshole might just get away. On the other hand, Beth shifted his little girl in her arms as she ducked inside and flashed him that sweet smile, and Shane forced himself to calm down. He needed to be here right at this moment, to make sure they were safe and cared for before he got back to business.

The man was shot and one arm was fucked to hell and back, as well as any other damage Shane might have done. He wasn't getting away. If Daryl couldn't track his ass down, then world really had fucking ended. 

In the common room, the others were shifting and loading gear, and Shane ran a sharp eye over the firepower they were prepping. Carol and Michonne worked together to reload magazines and snap them into place, and Rick came out of the cells looking annoyed. Maggie and Glenn were shedding their riot gear, and Shane glanced toward the entrance to the tombs as he heard Dixon voices rise up from the darkness in some creative cursing.

"Shane," Rick called. "There you are. Everyone alright?" 

Rick paused when he saw Shane's face. Shane shook his head, his arms full once again of Ace when he got to the bottom of the steps and she curled against him immediately. Shane could feel the look on his face but he couldn't do anything about it, and Ace shivered again as he answered Rick. 

"They're fine. That fuckin'- he got away. I need Daryl. We're going after him." 

"Shane-" Ace started, worried, and Shane looked down at her upturned face and raised his eyebrows. 

"No, Slugger. You're staying here, your asshole brother and I will handle it. No more fun and games, just putting his ass down like the filth he is, you hear me?" 

"What, you miss or somethin'?" Daryl drawled, and Shane shot a hard look over at the two Dixon brothers as they emerged from the tombs. "Back's closed, dead are all, well, dead. How's that fucker still alive?" 

"No. No, he didn't miss," Ace snapped, pushing back to glare equally at Shane and her brothers. Her eyes flashed, and Shane almost smiled to see something other than that shocked horror in them. 

Sometimes, with all she'd seen and lived through, Shane forgot that she wasn't like him. She didn't eat, sleep, and breath violence, outside of being the target of it. She didn't do more than sock an asshole in the nose and saunter back behind the bar or put down the already dead. His Ace had never killed anyone living; never even fired a shot in living person's direction, since she hadn't been there when the one-eyed bastard bashed the gates in and hadn't been on the rescue mission for Maggie and Glenn. 

Until today, when she'd fucking held Malcolm fucking Hall at gunpoint and then put a bullet in his side while Shane was busy playing games with the bastard. Hall getting away was Shane's fault, and guilt reared hard and ugly and threatened to turn him into the raging asshole he'd been on the farm. 

But Slugger wasn't done yet. "He was too busy trying to fucking play caveman and fucking up my shot until I'd had enough of watching him get hit. So I shot Malcolm, but he got away while I was busy having a freak out and Shane was making sure I was ok. It's my fault he escaped, so I'm coming with you." 

"Like hell," Shane snapped bluntly, and then the argument started for real. 

Shane hadn't imagined getting into a screaming match with Ace was on the agenda when he got up this morning, but he also hadn't expected a host of other things. Like Malcolm fucking Hall getting away from him. Or Merle volunteering to stay behind at the prison, eyeing Ace sideways with a look that said he paid more attention than even Shane had given him credit for. Or for Daryl to track Hall a helluva lot further than the man should have been able to go with the damage done to him. 

Or the massacre they found when they came out of the woods. 

He supposed, he mused as he made sure the walkers starting to rise from the field wouldn't continue to do so, he should have expected being called 'Shanelle' twice and 'Shalita' once, though to be fair Shalita was a bit of a stretch. Not that Slugger had appreciated Shane pointing out that Shanita, with an n, not only fit his name better but just sounded better in general. 

And he probably should have expected her to stop arguing as abruptly as she'd begun, the temper switching over to worry and her eyes spilling with tears as she launched herself back into his arms, called him 'hero', and begged him to be careful. She'd sniffed and informed him that she couldn't take much more of this him-in-danger-and-her-left-behind shit so he better fucking end it and get his sexy ass home. Her exact words, too- 'get your sexy ass home'. 

Shane definitely should have expected Daryl and Merle's commentary on that one. In fact, he had expected it. As well as the jibes from Dixon as they tracked Malcolm's speedy progress through the woods about doing things the dumbass way when Shane could have just kneecapped the man and then tortured him- that he also expected. The detail of Dixon's torture suggestions had been another surprise, but Shane honestly wasn't sure why; both Daryl and Merle proved to be unfailingly loyal and devastatingly brutal when it came to each other and their sister.

He hadn’t expected this mess though. Then again, who fucking would have? Bodies were everywhere, and they sure as hell hadn’t been taken out by Rick and company. Shane and Daryl had come from the woods and frozen in place, exchanging shocked looks at the carnage and then at Rick, Michonne, Maggie, and Glenn standing with a woman wrapped in a blanket. 

“What the fuck?” Daryl had muttered, and Shane had agreed with that sentiment. What the fuck indeed. 

“He shot them. He shot them all, and then his friends started to pull him away. We were trying to leave. We just wanted to leave you in peace,” Karen- the woman with the blanket- had been saying when Daryl and Shane walked up. 

“You see any sign of a bleeding bastard, goes by Anthony right now? Abusive motherfucker, blue eyes and a beard?” Shane had snapped. 

Ok, see, the one-eyed bastard shooting everyone was a concerning turn of events, especially with him getting away and all, and Shane was worried about that, sure. But right now, he had one goddamn purpose in being out here and not back in the prison with Slugger and Judith and Carl, and that reason was Malcolm fucking Hall. 

“Oh. Anthony- he- he went with them. Anthony, Shumpert, Martinez, and the Governor,” Karen had stammered. 

Shane stabbed down at the snarling face of some poor asshole, then kicked until the hands let go of his leg. Then he kept kicking, because the body was there and Hall fucking wasn’t, and Slugger was concerned about him fucking up his hands by punching things. It was one of the things she'd yelled at him, along with calling him a Neanderthal and a chauvinist- "and you're not going to be able to make a goddamn fist ever again if you keep punching everything in sight, so you'd better let me come along and just shoot them for you! You know, the easy way!"

He really fucking loved her. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so caught up in the petty details he forgot the bigger picture was Malcolm fucking Hall being dead, and now here she was again, waiting at home and paying the price while that bastard ran. And it was all Shane's fault.

“Easy, Walsh. Ain’t done yet,” Daryl said grimly, startling him out of the swirling black hole he was heading into with that train of thought. “Come on, we’re headin’ to Woodbury. Gotta make sure this is over. He’s probably there with them other assholes. Though Karen says he looked about dead anyway.” 

“About dead isn’t good enough,” Shane snapped, but he stopped kicking the walker and followed Dixon back to the others. 

It was dark as they sneaked up to Woodbury's gates, and while Shane knew it had been inevitable, he also knew Ace would be losing her damn mind around now. Plus, the last time he'd come to this place after dark, he'd gotten back home to where she should have been waiting for him and she'd been gone. He didn't think he could fucking handle a repeat of that shit, so they needed to get in, do what they'd come for, and get their asses- sexy or not- back home. 

But of course someone started shooting at them, and they all started shooting back, and then all the sudden Karen was walking out from their cover and screaming a name that sounded awfully familiar. Why did it, though? Shit, Shane couldn't be sure and there was no time to wonder about it as Rick growled and yelled that they were coming out, shoving his Python in his holster and putting his hands up. 

"The fuck you say?" Shane whispered, incredulous. 

Rick just shot him that same look he had before he'd fucked up SWAT's line-of-sight to talk the man with the hostage and the gun into surrendering peacefully instead of being taken the fuck out. Shane groaned and lowered his gun, following at Rick's back without another word. He knew when arguing with Rick Grimes was useless, and apparently everyone had a death wish tonight. But he kept his Glock in hand, just in case.

Daryl and Michonne followed their lead. Wonder of wonders, Rick had made the right damn call again, because the gate swung open. 

"How the hell do you keep doin' this shit?" Shane asked Rick in tones of deep and utter disgust. 

Shane met Rick's eyes across the field during practice and he grinned. Rick had that look, the one that said Shane was either about to have the time of his life or end up in the hospital. 

That had actually happened once, and damn had they both caught hell for it- Shane from both his mom and Mrs. Grimes. Shit, if he ran his fingers over his scalp, he could still feel the faint scar. 

Shane forced his head back in the game as Coach called another play and Shane met the eyes of the other team's quarterback. The other team was made up of half his own players, and Wes Johnson was a damn good QB and Shane's alternate. 

But Wes, he thought as the hike was called and the field became a sea of movement and battle Shane had to read precisely and correctly in order to navigate, was no Shane Walsh. He was right, and he lead his team to victory and some serious trash talk against their losing teammates as they hit the showers.

Rick was waiting on the bleachers with a book when Shane came out of the locker room. 

"Nerd," he called, chucking a football Rick's way. 

Rick snatched it out of the air without losing his place in the book and tossed it back one handed. He turned the page, his eyes moving as he read with one finger up in the air in a hold-on gesture. Shane tossed the football up and caught it easily while he waited, and finally Rick dog-eared his page before getting to his feet. 

"Hey. You finally done primping in there?" 

"Aw, come on, Grimes. This don't need primping," Shane said with a wink, his eyes following Chloe Marie Davis, head cheerleader extraordinaire, and her gaggle of cheerleader friends. Chloe saw him looking and smiled, a blush rising prettily on her cheeks as Shane let his eyes roam down her body and back to her face before biting at his lip. She waved a little and her friends all turned to look, smiles blooming on their faces as they started talking to her and checking Shane out at the same time.

He and Chloe had a hot date tomorrow night- the second hot date. Shane saw it going just as well as the first one had, and he winked at Chloe before she rolled her eyes and turned her back on him deliberately. He caught her smile as she did, though. Yeah, it would go damn well tomorrow. 

"Keep it in your pants, 22," Rick muttered. "I've got plans." 

"Yeah?" Shane's attention came back to his friend, and he couldn't deny he was intrigued. When Rick had plans, Shane's life inevitably got far more interesting. What sorcery had Rick cooked up this time?

"I convinced Mom," Rick said with a wicked grin. 

Shane stared. "Seriously?" 

"Seriously. Road trip, Walsh. Cancel your weekend plans, you and I are heading to Atlanta. Just you, me, and those fake id's you scored."

Shane laughed and lifted his hand for a high five. "Man, you really are magic. Look at you, using your powers for the Dark Side. I thought there was no way you'd get your folks to agree." 

Rick shrugged. "I told her it was going to be an educational experience checking out colleges and Atlanta's cultural center. She agreed. I'm borrowing the car, and they gave me money for a hotel. Plus, Lori's older sister got us a six pack and some weed already too." 

"Good God, Rick Grimes, you are a fucking miracle worker," Shane said in awe. Getting Lori involved in anything that reeked of being bad was a miracle on its own, but put together with all the other stuff, Shane thought he might just start to believe in the divine. And Rick Grimes was his new lord and savior.

This shit was so going to be worth cancelling that second date with Chloe.

For a brief moment, Shane thought Rick's luck had finally run out. That name Karen had been yelling sounded familiar because it belonged to one of the poor assholes Rick had started shooting at and banished from the prison. Tyreese and his sister Sasha had stayed behind to guard the citizens of Woodbury who weren't going to war on Shane's family. 

Tyreese had eyed Rick with obvious suspicion, and Shane and Daryl had exchanged looks, both of them watching the walls and the world around them as Karen had told Tyreese what the Governor did, and Michonne- 

Well, the Samurai, as Daryl had called her, stood looking positively serene and unbothered. Shane had a feeling that was a load of bullshit like Ace's fake smile and bartender voice, because for all Michonne's posture was still and relaxed, her eyes took in every damn thing that was happening while Rick and Karen vied for their entrance to the town. 

As usual, Shane shouldn't have doubted his friend. 

"Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall, coming for the prison. She never made it," Rick said seriously. "She might be here somewhere." 

Shane's teeth ground together, because while that was true and finding Andrea was important- she was one of theirs and she'd saved Slugger- Shane could already tell the one-eyed bastard and Malcolm fucking Hall weren't here. And if they weren't here, then Shane had wasted valuable daylight he could have spent searching for them. He needed to get back home, hold his girl while they both got some sleep, and get out there in the morning with one or more of the Dixon assholes and find both those dead men walking. 

Instead, he was following Rick and Tyreese into the warehouse where the Governor had held Maggie and Glenn, impatiently listening to Rick and Daryl tell an incredulous Tyreese what the Governor had done to their friends. They rounded the corner and all of them slowed as they saw the blood coming out from under a closed door. 

Andrea was bitten, and she was dying, and Shane thought it was probably all his fault. He wasn't entirely sure how, but maybe she'd come back here over and over again, despite her fucking Philip proving himself to be an asshole, because she thought Shane hated her. Because she thought Shane blamed her for what had happened to Slugger. 

The thing was, for a hot minute there- as Ace would have put it- Shane had. But his girl had rolled her eyes and informed him that men like that one-eyed bastard got into people's heads, and if Shane wanted to blame Andrea than he might as well just blame Ace for Malcolm as well. Shane hadn't liked that one damn bit, but after he thought his way through it, he'd seen her fucking point. 

Now Andrea was paying the price, when she'd gotten damn close to them, trying to warn them what was coming. Shane leaned on the wall and looked at her, then ran a hand through his hair and crouched beside her with the others. 

"I'm sorry," he told her. 

She offered him a faint smile. "For what?" 

"For trying to take a swing at you. For saying you were sleeping with the enemy. For this." He paused and smiled at her. "That we didn't hook up back at the camp outside Atlanta, cause by the time you offered, I was too far gone on Ace." 

She chuckled at that, a weak and wet-sounding laugh that twisted in Shane's gut. "Oh, Shane. You were just as gone on her back at the camp too. Is she ok? Malcolm dead?" 

Shane sighed and shook his head. "Not yet. She shot him though, and I'm gonna find him. End him and fucking Philip." 

"Good," Andrea said quietly. "Good." 

"Thank you. I didn't say it before. But thank you. For bringing her back to me. She, ah- she bitched my ass off a few times for how I treated you," he admitted. Then he leaned forward and brushed a kiss to her lips. "Thank you." 

She smiled at him for real. "My pleasure, Shane. Catch you later, huh?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, girl, catch you later," he agreed, and left the room before he started punching something. 

He was pacing the hall, Dixon and Rick waiting with him, when the single shot echoed from inside. Michonne opened the door slowly, and Shane brushed by her with a hand on her arm in sympathy to scoop up Andrea's body and carry it to the waiting bus.

They were taking her back, and they were taking the rest of Woodbury with them. Shane had someone waiting at home for him tonight, but tomorrow, he promised himself and Andrea's body as he laid her along one of the bus's seats. 

Tomorrow the Governor died, right along with Malcolm fucking Hall.


	78. Lie #78: "When Have I Ever Done Anything Just Because You Said So?" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
references to past abuse  
references to past rape/non con  
references to past miscarriage

You watched anxiously as they left, eyeing the walkers coming to fill the yard again. Luckily the inner gate had only been blasted off its tracks, and Glenn, Daryl, Rick, and Shane had wrestled it back into place somehow before they left. 

Daryl and Shane were making their way on foot into the trees, and you watched until they were out of sight and then watched longer for good measure. 

You couldn’t believe you’d been sidelined again, goddamn it. You’d thrown every argument you could think of at them- ok, fine, mostly just at him- at increasingly high volumes, but Shane had not been playing around. He wasn’t letting you go, and every second you’d spent yelling at each other was, as Daryl pointed out in an impatient tone, just another bit of daylight wasted. 

Merle’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Come on, little sister. They’ll be fine. Darylina’s gonna keep ya cop safe.” 

“Why do you two refuse to use his name? Shane. Shane Walsh,” you said grumpily, not taking your eyes from where they’d disappeared. “And Shane can keep himself safe.” 

“Then why ya worried so much? Ya… Shane can handle his shit, so can Daryl. Come on, let’s get ya ass inside. Seems unlikely, but that asshole could come around and try to take a shot.” 

“Oh that’s- are you shitting me?” you said, giving him an incredulous look. “He’s not going to be sniping. Shane gave him a broken shoulder and I put a bullet in his side!” 

Merle shrugged. “Hell, honey, he shouldn’t’a gotten away neither, but here we are. Ol’ Merle’s seen some impossible shit get done by men didn’t have no more options. But have it your way- get inside, cause there’s shit to be done and Merle said so.” 

“When have I ever done anything just because you said so?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, but damn- he was right. 

There was shit to be done. There were walker bodies to clear out of the tombs, unpacking to do, the cage needed to be fixed. The outer gates needed to be fixed as well, and yet more walkers- alive and twice dead- to clear from the yard. Plus, food hadn't exactly been plentiful when you packed up, so inventory needed to be done and a spot scoped out for a supply run now that the threat was hopefully going to be eliminated. 

“Fine,” you muttered when Merle laughed. You shoved away from the fence with one last worried look to the trees and squinted up at the smoke billowing from the tower. “What the hell are we gonna do about that?” 

“Tonight? Not a damn thing. Tomorrow?” Merle shrugged. “Fix it, baby sis. Fix it.” 

Inside, you ran a hand over your face as you looked around and tried to make yourself focus. There was shit to be done, and you honestly had no idea where to start. 

"I'm making a to-do list," Carol said from the doorway to the cell blocks. "Got anything to add?" 

You shot her a fond smile. "What would we do without you, Carol?" 

She sighed dramatically. "Starve." 

"Oh that is way too damn accurate," you agreed with a laugh. "Is eating on that list, by the way? Merle wandered off, but I know he's going to come down with a case of the starving soon, and you think he's an asshole now? Just you wait. Especially if he's found some shit around here to send up his damn nose, which I wouldn't put past him."

Actually, yeah, you were- suddenly you were worried about that. Was your big brother on the drugs again? He'd seemed a hell of a lot less like the asshole you remembered over the past week and a half, but to be honest you'd been distracted with the whole entire-side-of-your-face-healing thing and Merle had spent as much time as possible not around people. He and Daryl had been hanging out in the woods a lot, or in the garage tinkering with vehicles, or in the tombs doing you didn't even know what. 

Goddamn it, did you need to- 

"Merle's clean," Carol said dryly, cutting through your mental rant. "That was one of the conditions of him living here, and Daryl's been riding herd on him. So have I." 

You blinked at her and smiled. "Well, if you're on his ass about it, he wouldn't dare. You're scary." 

Carol rolled her eyes at you. "Stop. You and your brothers are such flirts." 

That got you to pause, eyebrows shooting up. "Well, well, well, Carol. You hitting on Daryl after all? He hitting back?" 

"Stop," Carol repeated, her cheeks lightly red and a faint smile on her lips. "I'm not hitting on anyone. Despite Merle's, ah, interesting proposition." 

"Jesus," you muttered. "I'll kick his ass for you. Just say the word. Until then, give me a job. I can't cook for shit, but I can unload and put things away. Apparently I'm not allowed outside though." 

"No one's goin' outside, lil sister. That goes for you, too, Miss Carol," Merle called, coming in from the skywalk. "And anyone else still in here. Gotta watch out for snipers." 

You and Carol exchanged amused looks, Carol hiding her smile behind the notebook she was making her list in. 

"I'll cook, Ace," she said easily. "Go unpack yours and Shane's things, and Merle- you can do Daryl's. Let's get this place organized for when our people get back." 

"Yes, Miss Carol," you murmured to her, and she rolled her eyes again as you headed into the cell block. 

Someone had taken the time to deface the painting you'd done in the common area, and you stared at the long gouges taken out of the paint and sighed. The worst of the damage was on yours and Shane's buildings, so you had little doubts who was fucking petty enough to do this shit. You leaned in closer, wondering just how difficult it was going to be to repair, and scrubbed a hand across your face. 

The sun had set hours ago. Everyone's cells were unpacked. Dinner had been made, eaten companionably together with a surprising amount of warm conversation and laughter, and cleaned up. 

You'd fed Judith a bottle and paced the upper deck of cells until she fell asleep in your arms, while you studied her sleepy face closely and wondered which of her tiny features would start to look like Shane's. You'd glanced down at one point to find your brother watching you closely as you paced, and you'd rolled your eyes and tried to pretend you couldn't feel his eyes on you. You knew he was thinking about a trip to the hospital and maybe about beating the shit out of Will, but you couldn't handle those thoughts tonight. Not while you were holding Shane's little girl and worrying if he was ok. 

Maggie and Glenn had come back as the sun set, looking grim and exhausted, and your heart had stopped when you saw them. They'd updated everyone on the Governor slaughtering his people, and Shane, Rick, Daryl, and Michonne going to Woodbury to see if they were still there. You'd been shocked at the widespread carnage, though you didn't know why. He'd been a cold-blooded bastard, and you were worried by the news that Andrea had tried to get to you but hadn't made it. You had few illusions about what happened when someone crossed men like that.

Of course Malcolm had met up with them, and of course he had left with them. The damn asshole would probably survive, and as much as you wanted him dead, you wanted him gone more than anything. Out of your life again would be good enough for you, if it came down to it. But it wouldn't be for Shane, and you hoped like hell he found Mal hiding in Woodbury and put his ass down. 

You reached into the bag of art supplies your brothers had brought for you and pulled out another can, biting down on your lip as you continued repairing the damage to the building full of Shane's life. It wouldn't look as good as it had before, and you at least would always be able to see where it had been repaired. 

Just something else Malcolm fucking Hall had tried to destroy. Joke's on you, Mal. I can fix this, and as long as Shane's ok, I will be too, you thought viciously.

You fell into the steady rhythm of painting for awhile, loosing yourself in the color and the scent of spray paint and the soothing feeling of familiarity. Even by lamplight, this was what you did, where you most felt at home- in front of a wall, with a can of paint in your hand. 

The fucking headache was annoying as hell, though.

You sighed and rubbed at your forehead, over your bad eye. You couldn't wait for the damn socket to heal the rest of the way so you would stop getting these headaches when you tried to focus for too long. You couldn't wait for everything to be healed, ribs included, so you would stop getting sidelined all the damn time and could be out there at Shane's side, where you were supposed to be. Waiting was fucking hell. 

Just like that, your thoughts started spiraling again, and you glared at the wall like it had failed you somehow. Shane wasn't back still, or he'd be holding you right now. So you wanted to paint and let time cease to exist, damn it. 

"Little sister, why don't you head to bed, get some sleep?" Merle said softly at your elbow, and you jerked. 

You blinked at him. "What are you doing inside? Shouldn't you be on watch?" 

"Glenn just took my place. He told me he tried to talk to ya, but you were so damn absorbed ya didn't hear nothin'," Merle drawled. He smirked, licked his thumb, and before you could dodge rubbed at your forehead. 

"What the fuck, Merle?" you asked, slapping his hand away. "That's gross!"

"Got somethin' on your face." 

"Yeah, I usually do. Doesn't mean I want your slobber all over me as well. Gawd." You shot him a disgusted look and swiped at your head, hoping to get any traces of older brother spit off as rapidly as possible.

Merle gave you a concerned look, nodding at where he'd scrubbed at your face. "Headache again?"

"Yeah, it's the eye," you dismissed with a shrug. "It'll be fine." 

"Starin' at walls in low-ass lantern light ain't helpin' none either. Seriously, baby sis, go to bed." 

You sighed and tossed the paint can up absently, catching it in your opposite hand as you stared toward the common room. "I can't." 

Merle snorted. "Ya won't, ya mean." 

"No, I mean, I can't. I have to know he's safe, Merle. I mean, all of them, but… this is the second time in less than a day that I've been sidelined while he's in danger. I can't- I have to know he's ok," you finished, shrugging. "Besides, I won't sleep anyway. So I might as well paint. I've always kept odd hours. I'll take third watch, too, so Carol can rest. Either she or Beth will be up with Judy soon. Probably any minute now." 

Merle shook his head at you. "Think ya should at least lay down and try, girlie. He might not have hit ya or nothin', but I know what that bastard does to ya head." 

"That's sweet, but he didn't do anything to my head," you said with a jerk of your shoulder. You felt yourself smiling foolishly and Merle lifted an eyebrow at you in question. "He tried, but- Shane didn't let him. You should have heard him, Merle." 

You shoved a hand through your hair and gestured wildly. "Mal started in on his usual shit, about how I was his and how Shane didn't know me like Mal did, and Shane- Shane just starts firing questions at him. It was the sweetest thing I've ever heard, and I actually believe- I actually believe he knows the answers to all of them. Even when Mal brought up some shit, a- a bad night, Shane didn't fucking blink at it. Just put him in his place and broke his shoulder." 

Merle snorted again. “Careful, little sister, ya about to drool.” 

“Shut up, asshole,” you shot back. “It’s just nice. Feel so damn… cared about, you know? I never did, with Mal.” 

“Cause he ain’t never given one shit about ya in ya life,” Merle informed you coldly. “Ya brother’n I’ve been tellin' ya to ditch him for years. Wish ya’d fuckin’ listened.” 

“Don’t start, Mr. What Am I In Jail For This Week,” you snapped. “How many times we tell you to give up the drugs and the gang shit?” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Merle fired back articulately, and you glared at each other for a minute before you both started grinning. 

“Go to bed, big brother,” you told him, leaning forward and kissing Merle’s cheek. “I’m fine out here. Promise. Besides, they’ll be back soon.” 

Merle sighed and shook his head at you, shooting you a look. “Still wish ya’d get some rest too. Shane’s a lucky asshole, sis. And if he fucks with ya, I’ll fuck up his face.” 

You groaned and shoved at his shoulder, and he kissed your forehead before sauntering off toward his cell. You tossed the can again and caught it on the way down, smiling as you turned back to the wall. 

“Ace!” 

Carl’s voice had you jerking and looking at him, shushing him automatically as you did. 

“Shit, kid, your sister’s-“ You cut off and frowned, glancing around at the light streaming in. When the hell had it turned to morning? And why weren’t-

“They’re back,” Carl said, and you dropped the paint can to the floor with a clatter and practically ran toward the door.

They’d brought back a school bus, apparently. And people. Lots of people, milling around with wide eyes. 

Merle was down near the main gate, Daryl beside him, and you thought they might be arguing already, judging by their body language. Rick had Judith in his arms and was talking to a cluster of anxious new faces; Michonne stood with Carol and Maggie, deep in conversation; and Glenn was hauling boxes and bags from the back of the bus. Hershel and Beth were smiling at everyone, and you didn’t fucking see Shane anywhere. 

Your heart started to pound as you scanned all these damn people for him, and you were about to well and truly flip shit when he finally emerged from the bus. You let out a sigh of relief that turned to an amused smile as he helped an older woman down the steps, then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and gestured around with a smile. They shuffled slowly along until another woman came and took over for Shane, gazing into his eyes as she thanked him with such clear flirtation that you snorted. 

Shane smiled, nodded, kissed the old lady’s cheek, and started scanning the courtyard impatiently. He shoved a hand through his hair and you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Yo, Dickhead!” 

His eyes- as well as everyone else’s- shot to you, and you grinned as he shook his head and gave you that half-smile you fucking loved. 

“Hey,” you said casually when he got to you. “Find some cats stuck up in trees, Officer?” 

He snorted and pulled you close, tangling his hand in your hair and leaning his forehead to your shoulder. “He’s not dead yet.”

“Yeah, I figured. You didn’t come to the door waving his head,” you muttered. “Shane-“

He sighed and straightened back up to look at you, anger and guilt and exhaustion churning in his eyes. “I’ll get him, Slugger. I swear. I’m heading out there to look; gonna take your brothers with me. Just as soon as we get everyone settled, I’m gone.”

“Shut up, you idiot,” you said dryly. “Look, I want him dead too, but you’re coming to bed with me. Now.” 

“Ace-“

“Shane, a slight breeze would put you on your ass. You need rest. Then we’ll go look for Malcolm,” you said firmly. 

He made a face at the “we”, but didn’t say anything about it as you grabbed his hand and started leading him back to C block. “Should be helping,” he said, glancing at Rick. “Shit to do.” 

“Mhmm,” you agreed. “Like sleep. Carol! Shane and I are gonna crash out for awhile. Wake us up if there’s an emergency.” 

Carol waved, but Maggie flashed you a sly grin. 

“You think any of us are gonna be fool enough to come in there? We don’t need that earful right now!” She called, and you groaned as you ducked inside. 

These people were absolute sickos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, ok, have some mostly pointless fluff. I'm tired today.


	79. Lie #79: "I Promised You Decent Coffee" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
references to past abuse

Maggie’s insinuations aside, both Shane and Ace were too damn tired to do more than collapse on their bed and curl around each other. Shane honestly wasn’t sure if they’d spoken two words to each other, or if he'd simply pulled her to him, kissed her hair, and fallen asleep. 

Sunlight still came in from around the curtain, so either he’d only slept a few hours or he’d slept straight through to tomorrow. Shane was betting, based on the way his arm tingled where Ace lay on it and he still felt groggy and exhausted, it had only been a few hours. He needed to get up anyway. 

Woodbury’s residents needed cells. Rules needed to be established. Another run needed to be made to the town to clear out the rest of their supplies, as well as reinforcing C block’s own stash. He needed to see Judith and check in with Carl. The towers had still been trailing smoke, the Dixons had been arguing over how to fix the gates, and there were bodies in the yard and probably in the tombs as well, unless Ace and Merle and company had been a hell of a lot busier than Shane thought. 

He needed to find Malcolm fucking Hall. 

There was endless shit to do, he knew. But he lay there, arm going numb, and listened to his girl breathe. 

It was his fault Malcolm had gotten away. His fault, Shane knew, and yet Ace had already blamed herself once, for distracting him. The woman took every damn thing on, and then had the nerve to yell at him for feeling guilty when he shouldn’t. 

Shane sighed and shifted slightly, and Ace made a discontented noise so he froze. He knew she wanted to go with him to find Hall, and he decided he could use this time in which he was not doing all the other things that needed doing to work on his arguments for keeping her in the prison where it was safe.

Her ribs. Her eye. Hall wanted her so there was a very clear and present threat there. Walkers. No, walkers wouldn’t fly. She handled walkers all damn winter. She was fucking good at handling walkers, and he knew it.

He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, knowing the biggest fucking reason was that he just needed her safe. And he had a feeling he’d used that one a few too many times already, if the look in her eyes was any indication when she yelled at him that she felt the same about him, damn it. But what could he do? Malcolm fucking Hall had to die, and Ace had to be safe while he did it, or-

Or Shane would lose his goddamn mind. 

Footsteps came to the entrance of the cell and paused. Shane lifted an eyebrow at the low trilling whistle, recognizing one of Dixon’s call signs from the winter on the road. He shifted a little, drawing his arm from under Ace’s head slowly to try not to wake her, but she groaned and cracked an eye open. 

He stroked her cheek and smiled. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” 

She grunted, not really awake at all, and rolled to her stomach, flinging one arm out over the edge of the bed and filling the space Shane had just vacated completely. She also, he noted with an amused smile, managed to tangle the entire blanket around herself. If he hadn’t been up already, he’d have been cold and pushed off the bed. 

Fucking thief. 

He grabbed his gun and slung his belt over his shoulder, scooping up his boots in his other hand before ducking out of the cell. Daryl leaned on the wall beside the entrance, staring across at the mural she'd done. There were gouges running down it, and he could see where she'd spent probably the whole damn night working down at the far end, and left her supplies laying out. 

Ace never did that, Shane thought as Daryl looked at him and jerked his head toward the common area. She must have been in a damn rush. 

Michonne and Merle were at a table with their heads together, leaning over a map and holding what was clearly the beginnings of an argument. Shane's eyes narrowed as Daryl snagged a water bottle and a bowl of something from Carol with a mumbled thanks and brought them to the table, sitting on it and shoveling food into his mouth. 

"Come 'ere, Walsh, we need ya in on this shit too," Merle half-yelled. "Where ya been?" 

Shane rolled his eyes as he walked over and dropped his gun and his boots on the table. "Sleeping." 

"Get ya damn nasty shoes off the map, ya raised by fuckin' wolves?" Merle snapped, shoving at Shane's boots until they were off the edge of the paper. "My sister in there with ya, I'll bet ya weren't sleepin' all that much." 

"Merle Dixon, you're fucking disgusting," Shane said flatly. He shoved his gun in his holster and sat on the bench to pull on his boots, smiling as Carol came over with another bottle of water and a bowl to match Daryl's. She set them in front of him and leveled Merle with a glare. Shane's stomach growled as steam rose from the bowl, and he grabbed at the thing, anxious to see what miracles Carol had wrought with their supplies today. 

"Merle. Leave Shane and Ace alone. They were clearly exhausted," Carol said sternly, and he was surprised when Merle ducked his head and mumbled an apology. Then Carol glanced at Shane and her lips twitched. "Besides, it was too quiet in here for them to have been doing anything… strenuous." 

Shane groaned as the table rang with loud Dixon laughter from both of Ace's brothers. Even Michonne was grinning as Carol walked away, and Shane sighed. 

"Alright, you assholes. What are you cooking up over here?"

Michonne leaned forward before either of the Dixons could speak. “We’re trying to get a plan organized. To look for the Governor, and Hall.” 

Shane eyed the map and the scattered papers. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Figured you’d want in on it, what with that whole bringin’ Ace Malcolm’s head thing,” Daryl said around a mouthful of Carol’s magic stew. 

Shane smiled slowly. “I would indeed. What have you got so far?” 

Shane didn’t know how much later it was, but the map was covered in neat square search grids, labeled with priority levels and ranked out in a key on a sheet of paper. They had lists of gear they needed and gear that would be useful, and Shane was putting serious thought into horses. 

“It’s been a fuckin' minute or two since I rode, and Dixon fell on his own damn crossbow bolt last time he tried, but it’d be quieter than the bike and no need to worry about gas,” he argued. 

Merle rolled his eyes. “Hell, pig, ya ain’t wrong exactly- and little brother, we’re gonna talk about that arrow thing- but where the shit ya propose we get these horses? Got a corral safe from biters ya been hidin’ from the rest of us?” 

Shane shrugged. “We can find them. Rick found one and took it into Atlanta.” 

“And done lost it to a herd of them assholes,” Merle fired back. “What makes ya think there’s any left ain’t become somebody’s undead dinner?” 

“Look,” Michonne put in before Shane could retort. “Horses are a great idea if we find them. We’re focusing on the immediate area to start out though, so we can do it on foot. Save fuel and steed discussions for later on.” 

“Later on in what?” 

Shane glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Ace leaned in the doorway, looking rumpled and half-asleep still. She had paint liberally streaked on her face and arms, as well as all over her clothes, and she shoved a hand through her tangled hair and yawned. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said as she shoved off the doorway and wandered toward Carol’s industrial-sized pot, simmering with stew on the camp burner they’d set up for her when they took over C block. She snorted and filled a bowl after one sniff. 

“Hardly beautiful right now. I’m a mess and I know it. Don’t try to distract me, Walsh. You guys are up to something. Oh god that woman is incredible,” she added with a moan as she ate her first spoonful. She stabbed the spoon at him as she wandered over. “What are you plotting?”

“We’ve got us a genuine man hunt, baby sister,” Merle drawled with a grin. 

Ace lifted an eyebrow as she took another bite. “And in sane person terms that means?” 

Daryl snorted. “Means we’re getting’ organized. Gonna hunt the Governor down. Shane’s gonna bring ya Malcolm fuckin’ Hall’s head.” 

Ace's nose wrinkled. “Why bring it to me? I’m coming too.” 

“You’re staying here,” Shane said bluntly. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“Shit,” Daryl muttered. “Shouldn’t’a led with that, idiot.” 

Ace shot a glare Daryl’s way and set her bowl down with a thump. Shane winced and shoved a hand through his hair, then stood up and reached for her. 

“Slugger-“ 

“Don’t Slugger me, Dickhead,” she snapped. “What on earth makes you think I would possibly stay behind while you three idiots are running around out there looking for them?” 

“Michonne’s in on it too,” Merle protested. “Why’s it three idiots?” 

“Because Michonne is not an idiot. She's not trying to stop me from coming with you,” Ace snapped. 

“That’s true; I won’t try to stop her. And I’m not an idiot,” Michonne agreed absently, sketching out a map of a subdivision she knew on a piece of paper.

Ace’s lips twitch in an appreciative smile before she went back to glaring at her brothers and Shane. “See?”

“She just agreed with ya, that’s hardly a convincing argument,” Daryl muttered. “Look, sis, this is between you and ya cop. I’m out of it, so don’t come after me, aight?” 

“I’ll come after you if I want to.” 

Shane recognized a retort fired more out of habit than anything else, especially since Ace’s glare was fixed firmly on him. He sighed and reached for her again, settling his hands on her arms when her stubborn expression didn’t fade one bit. “Ace, please,” he started. 

“No. Don’t give me that shit again, Shane. You sidelined me twice in a row. You want me safe? Well, I want you safe, asshole. And if I can’t know you’re safe, I want to be where I can watch your damn back. Like we did all winter. You forget I know how to handle myself out there?” Her eyes flashed and she gestured sharply, and Shane caught her hand. 

“Against the dead? There’s no one I’d rather have at my side,” he told her seriously. 

It was true. Out there, on the road, she’d been a damn badass. She’d slipped in at his back and made the perfect fucking partner, and he’d depended on her like he’d depended on Rick. She’d gotten them out of a few close shaves and more than handled her fair share of the walkers. 

But this wasn’t the dead they were talking about. It was Malcolm fucking Hall, who terrorized and brutalized her multiple times. It was that one-eyed bastard who had threatened and scared Maggie. Shane felt sick to his fucking stomach just thinking about her at risk out there again. 

“Slugger, sweetheart, you’re the best there is against the walkers,” he continued. 

One of the Dixons scoffed behind him and muttered something. Shane would have bet good money it was Merle.

“But you’ve only ever shot at one living, breathing person. You’ve never taken a man’s life, and Ace, that’s a whole different ball game,” he continued, ignoring the peanut gallery. 

Ace glared. “Randall.” 

“Who?” He asked, confused. 

“I shot at Randall. Back on the farm. I’d have killed him too, if Rick hadn’t fucked up my shot.” 

“Who the fuck is this prick and why ya let her try to kill him but not succeed?” Merle asked. 

Shane shot a glare over his shoulder, but Daryl started giving him the run down and Shane focused back on Ace. 

“Ok, fine, that’s fair. Two people. You still haven’t killed anyone. I’d rather you keep it that way, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s not something you want to start doing lightly. Ask your brothers. Ask Rick. It ain’t easy.” 

Ace sighed and squeezed his hand. “Shane, you think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t see you, after bad shifts? Hell, you showed up at my place more than once looking like the world had ended on you. I don’t think it’s easy, hero. But I want to watch your back. I need to.” 

Shane damn near melted when she called him 'hero', like he had every fucking time so far. When was this woman going to learn, he wasn't a damn hero? 

He thought about a sheet and a Sharpie and Super Shane, and he scrubbed the hand not clutching hers over his face and let out a frustrated groan. "Ace, please. Please. Look, I know I- I know I've said this a lot lately, and I know I can't just say the magic word and get my way, but darlin', I can't rest until he's dead and I can't have you out there. I didn't- you- shit. If he were to lay one fucking hand on you again-" 

She didn't speak, and he look her way expecting a refusal, an argument, a mildly insulting or at least creative female name lobbed his way. Sure enough, she was scowling at him with that look that promised him trouble, and he braced himself and started lining up all his logical arguments- ribs, cheek, back to the thing about killing people, Malcolm having a single-minded determination to get her back or at least hurt her. Not wanting to take too much of their fighting strength away from Rick and the prison, though that was a damn risky thread to pull. Shane could see her firing back a deadly counter-argument about both her brothers and Shane and Michonne going, and one or more of them could stay behind, couldn't they? 

She let out a vicious string of curses that had him blinking at their sheer creativity. Merle chuckled and Carol, wandering through the room with Judith in her arms, covered Shane's daughter's ears. 

"Good Lord, what did you do to her?" Carol asked. 

Ace cut off, looking mildly guilty, and offered Carol a sheepish smile. "Used sneaky, underhanded tactics to get me to go along with caveman behavior that I think is absolute bullshit. Unfortunately, I also find myself agreeing to it. On one condition." 

Shane blinked at her in surprise. He'd been expecting more of a goddamn fight than that, and found himself immediately suspicious. "What kind of condition?" 

"This is the last time, Shane," she said seriously. "I get that you're worried and I get that it's Mal. I'll always be more at risk with Malcolm Hall than with anyone else, and to be fair, he did beat the shit out of me fairly recently. But this is the absolute last time you get to pull this nonsense. I can take care of myself. I'm not a goddamn victim. Not anymore." 

Shane flinched away a little from the words 'I'm not a goddamn victim', remembering them flung his way as he stood outside her apartment door on what he was still pretty sure was the worst night of his life. All the shit that had happened since then- Rick getting shot, the end of the world, all the deaths, even seeing Ace walk up battered and terrified- none of that compared to her standing in front of him and telling him they weren't friends anymore. 

Her face softened, like she was thinking the same thing he was, and she stepped into him. Her hand slid to cup his cheek and he leaned into her touch as she held his eyes seriously. 

"I was before. I didn't want to see it, but I was a victim. You were right; I needed your protection and I needed your help. I still do, hero, but I don't need it the same way. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you, and I want to. I'm your partner, and after Malcolm and the Governor are handled, you treat me like your partner. No more of this 'please, for me' crap. I can't help but give you what you want when you do that, so you can't just use it whenever we disagree. That's my terms. Take it or leave it." 

What the hell was he supposed to do? He thought as she shrugged. He looked down at his paint-splattered Slugger, and couldn't help but smile. 

"Deal." 

Shane was pondering two bottles of shampoo- one that declared itself passion fruit scented, looked like yogurt, and smelled like Ace; and one of those everything-in-one bottles of Old Spice brand shit that Shane didn't remember seeing in Ace's shower before. He figured it must belong to that bastard she wouldn't stop taking back, and he was trying to decide if he'd rather smell like the bastard or get ribbed by Rick about what his hot date had been like. Then he'd have to explain that he'd spent the night at Ace's and jumped in her shower, and Rick would spend a few hours asking when he and Ace were going to start dating already. 

It wouldn't be the first time that exact scenario had gone down, so the debate was fairly lively. In the end, Shane decided he'd rather smell like Ace all day than use that cheating bastard's crap, so he plopped a palm full of color fortifying yogurt on his head and started scrubbing. 

"Hey, Shane? Where's your handcuff key?" 

Shane stuck his head around the curtain and looked at Ace. She was leaning in the half-open door, eyes blandly innocent. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Why?" he asked. 

She shrugged. "I need it." 

"Why?" 

She sighed and brought her hand around so he could see it. Dangling from her wrist were his cuffs, and Shane smirked at her.

"Shit, girl. I mean, that's gonna require some creativity in the shower, but we can probably figure something out. Or you can wait about two minutes and we can use your room. Your headboard'll work for that," he said with a wink. 

She shot him a look. "Ha ha. Asshole. I needed a reference for a drawing. I wasn't meaning to close them, and your key's not in your duty belt." 

"Pants pocket," he told her, nodding at his uniform tossed over her counter. "What the hell are you drawing? Is it kinky?" 

"You wish," she told him, digging in his pocket. "Hurry up in there and you can see it. You're pretty enough, Walsh. You promised me breakfast in exchange for my couch as a bed. Then I believe you offered me the soul of your firstborn in exchange for the shower. Which, by the way, not dramatic at all." 

"I promised you decent coffee," he fired back as she unlocked his cuff from her wrist and returned the key to his pants pocket. She leaned against the counter, spinning the cuffs on her finger, and he ducked back under the spray while he talked. "And I'm glad you think I'm pretty. Probably this damn yogurt shit you got in here. What the hell is "passion fruit flower" anyway? I'm pretty sure that's not a real fucking thing. Who are you calling dramatic, though? You want dramatic, put those cuffs back on and get in here, I'll give you some drama." 

"You and that goddamn ego. Get clean and get out already. Breakfast!"


	80. Lie #80: "Ain't A Woman Alive I Want To Put Up With The Rest Of My Life" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
brief references to pedophilia (Rick and Shane are cops)

Shane sighed as he added more shit to his pack, already missing Ace. She was knee deep in fixing that painting and Shane was ninety percent certain she’d started in on it again because she was pissed at him. 

She might have agreed to stay behind, but she wasn’t happy about it, and he’d gotten a look and an earful when they came back to the cell together. He couldn’t blame her, not really. He just already missed her voice and her presence and he wished she wasn’t out there with spray paint and was in here with him instead. 

Oh well, she’d warned him once that he should be jealous of her lifelong love affair with aerosolized pigment. He just hadn’t thought that would ever actually happen. 

He added the last box of ammo and checked his Glock carefully before shoving it back into his holster. Then he slung the pack over his shoulder and tucked a folded sheet of paper- stolen from her sketchbook- half-under the pillow they’d scrounged up somewhere. 

He’d told her he’d do romance fucking right, and he was tired of using the end of the world as an excuse. She might have been pissed at him now, but this trip was going to be four days out. Shane figured at some point in there, she’d come around. He might not have been able to draw like her, but he could write a damn note, ok? Though she might disagree with that, based on the one he'd sent her via Maggie on the farm. Goddamn it, Shane thought for the thousandth time. He was good at this shit. 

Rick had also taken some fucking convincing, but Shane honestly had expected that to be a harder sell than it was. Rick had taken a look at their grid plans, made some adjustments, and finally told them all to be careful and check in regularly, damn it. 

Carl was going to be pissed though. He and Ace could commiserate, Shane decided with a roll of his eyes. 

“Hurry it up, Walsh, we’re burnin’ daylight!” Daryl yelled impatiently.

Ace wasn’t working on the wall when he came out, and Shane was actually starting to think she wasn’t going to say goodbye. He knew she was upset, but he hadn’t thought she was so pissed about it all that she wouldn’t speak to him or her brothers before they left. 

He scanned the courtyard and wondered where she was as Rick and Michonne talked, Merle and Carol spoke quietly, and Daryl paced and chewed on his thumbnail. Seriously, she couldn't be that angry about it, or she'd have fought with him a hell of a lot longer. She wasn't shy about telling him how she felt, and she wasn't passive aggressive enough to not say goodbye. 

He was about to go looking for her when he saw it. “Rick?” 

Rick glanced over at Shane and followed his gaze. “Holy shit.” 

“You think? Think it’s-“ Shane gestured vaguely. 

Rick nodded, scuffing the tie of his boot on the ground and shooting a sideways glance at Shane. “It’s the right direction. What else would it be? Change of plans?” 

“Hell yeah, change of plans,” Shane agreed. 

Michonne nodded agreement and Daryl and Merle grunted. 

Carol sighed. “Think it’s Woodbury?” 

Rick nodded grimly. “We do. Keep everyone calm. You, Maggie, and Glenn are in charge. Keep Carl- shit.” 

Shane glared as well when he saw Ace and Carl walking over with purposeful steps. Ace had a rifle slung over her shoulder and her own version of Rick’s stubborn bastard look, and Shane knew that argument was doomed before it even began. She lifted an eyebrow and he sighed but nodded. She walked over and kissed his cheek, her hand sliding into his, and Shane held on tightly. At least he was going with her, he decided with a sigh.

“Carl, you’re not going,” Rick said firmly.

“Why the hell not?” The words exploded from the kid, and Rick glanced at Shane as if for backup. 

Hell no. Shane wasn’t getting involved in that. He pulled Ace a little to the side instead, looking down at her no longer paint splattered face. He tugged lightly on the ends of her damp hair. He messed with her about getting paint everywhere all the time, but he loved it when he saw her like that. Meant she'd been doing one of her favorite things, and Shane wanted her to have more of that. More paint on her nose and drinks in her hands, more sappy love songs and stealing Shane's clothes and arguing with her brothers. Shane wanted her safe and happy and his, and wasn't that the whole damn point of him going out and looking for these bastards?

“Thought you weren’t coming to say goodbye,” he said casually. 

She snorted. “Please. Like I'd let you leave without threatening you again. I was just getting a shower. I came out and got hung up by a sweet old lady from Woodbury, but then I saw the smoke and Carl came running, and here we are.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Here we are. I know you’re pissed.” 

“I’m not pissed,” she said, then paused. “No, ok, you’re right, I’m a little pissed. Mostly I’m just worried and I’m tired of waiting behind. I’ll head back here after we check out the smoke, like we agreed, but I’m not staying caged up in here, Shane. I can’t. I'm going out on runs and shit while you're gone. Full disclosure.” 

“Yeah,” he said softly, bending to kiss her because she was there and he wanted to. “I know. I won’t pretend I don’t hate it, cause I do, but I know.” 

“Good. As long as we both know we hate this, I guess we should get started doing it?” Her eyes danced as she said it, but he heard the edge to her tone and knew she really did hate it too. Shane leaned his forehead to hers before he kissed her again, longer and harder this time. It wouldn't be for long, he promised her recklessly in his mind. It wouldn't be. They'd find them, they'd kill them, and he'd be back by her side where he was supposed to be.

“Goddamn it, Walsh, come on!” 

Shane lifted his middle finger at Merle without looking. “Your brothers are assholes,” he informed Ace, his lips still on hers. 

She laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been telling you that for years.” 

They piled into Glenn's truck, Ace in Shane's lap in the truck bed along with Daryl and Merle. There was no real reason for Ace to be in his lap, but Shane sure as hell wasn't complaining, especially when her fingers were moving through the hair at the base of his neck and her head was tipped to his shoulder. 

He closed his eyes and breathed her in, knowing how much he was going to miss her over the next four days. Especially since he would be stuck with both of her brothers and not her. Suddenly he found himself wondering why he'd fought so hard to get her to stay behind. It wasn't like he was fond of Dixons in general, though Daryl and God help him, even Merle had grown on him some. He was fond of this Dixon, his Dixon, and she was the one he wasn't going to be rolling with? That hardly seemed right.

Then they pulled up at Woodbury's gates, now standing wide open for walkers and whoever to come into, and Shane remembered. 

The one-eyed asshole had definitely done this, he thought as he looked around. Ace leaned over the bed and stabbed a walker as Rick pulled the truck very slowly through the gates, and Daryl's crossbow twanged as he handled another. 

Shane was no arson investigator, but he'd dated one once. He remembered learning some tidbits from her during the time leading up to their first date, when he'd be on-scene at a fire and she'd be there too. Thing was, Shane didn't need those tidbits to know when an entire fucking block went up at once and the flames were that high that fast, someone had doused the place and set it on fire.

Ace hopped from the truck bed right after her brothers, and Shane jumped too. Rick and Michonne came around and joined the knot of them, Rick looking worried and Michonne looking completely unbothered. Shane really resented that sometimes. 

"Alright, we need to spread out. He might still be here. Stick together and be careful," Rick said tightly. 

Everyone nodded, and they moved off in teams of two. Normally Shane would have been right at Rick's damn shoulder, the two of them communicating through body language after years of partnership. But Ace was here. Ace was here, and the one-eyed bastard might still be as well. That meant Hall might be as well, and Shane wasn't letting her out of his sight when that bastard might still be around. 

Rick and Michonne went one direction, Daryl and Merle headed off in another, and Shane and Ace started down the main road, Ace in the lead. 

"Where we headed, Slugger?" he asked softly. 

She shrugged. "I don't know. If you were a semi-psychopathic asshole, where would you go when you set your town on fire after killing all your friends?"

Shane actually pondered that question for a minute, but he had absolutely nothing. Before he could answer, they rounded a corner and came face to face with some shambling dead. Ace sprung into action immediately, her knife sinking into the rotting temple of the first one with brutal efficiency Shane loved. It was like watching her punch out a dick at the bar, but almost better. 

He got busy with a couple walkers of his own, but he knew she could handle herself. When he was done, he turned back to see how she was doing and his heart fucking stopped. 

She was gone. 

The walkers were all dead, and as Shane scanned frantically, he didn't see any extra bodies on the ground, but Ace was nowhere to be seen. 

He let out a long, sharp whistle, and about two seconds later Daryl and Merle came up from between a couple of burning buildings, stepping out of a plume of smoke like- well, like creepy-ass rednecks, damn it. Shane scanned the street again, trying to remember everything he could about this place and wondering just what in the damn hell would make her disappear like that. He hadn't been occupied for all that long, damn it. There'd only been a handful of walkers total. And there hadn't been anyone around, so it's not like she'd been snatched up by someone. Unless aliens were landing. 

He shouldn't joke about that when the dead were wandering around eating people, he thought wildly. 

"Where's Ace?" Daryl asked as they reached Shane's side. Her brother's eyes were narrowed over a bandanna tied to the lower half of his face, and Shane glared into eyes that mocked him they looked so much like hers. 

"I don't know." 

"What the hell ya mean ya don't know, pig?" Merle demanded in a snarl. "Supposed to be watchin' her back!" 

"I was!" he snapped, rounding on Merle with his fists clenched and ready for a fight. "She was right the fuck here, taking out the group of walkers with me. I get busy dealing with my own, turn around, and two seconds later she's fucking gone!" 

Daryl was squinting at the ground like he was trying to track Slugger over a concrete street, and Shane's teeth ground together as red haze started to settle in his mind. Dixon wasn't going to find shit to track here. Not with the smoke and the concrete and everything. They needed to think, damn it. Where would she have gone, and why? 

Problem was, Shane couldn't fucking think, not with his heart pounding and the tightness in his chest as he scanned the street again, shoving his hand through his hair. Where the hell had she gone?

"Got a couple bloody footprints, about the right size for her. This way, man," Daryl said, pointing up the street. "She cain't have gone far, right? What's up here, Merle?" 

Merle shrugged as they all started moving, and Shane's heart rate didn't settle down any, but he did feel a little less like he was going to start punching Dixons. "Nothin' much, man. Some housing and shit. Governor's place is that'a'way, so it ain't that." 

Shane felt a wash of cold drop over him. "What about Malcolm fuckin' Hall's place?" 

Merle blinked and his face paled. "Shit." 

"Move faster," Shane snarled. "That one-eyed bastard was here, the fuckin' cockroach could be too."

"I hate this shift," Shane informed Rick as the third pint-sized version of Chucky this hour walked down the street. 

Rick sighed. "Me too. Halloween is ridiculous, man. Taking candy from strangers is what we teach kids not to do every other damn day of the year." 

Shane laughed. "I just hate it 'cause I'm missing out on the adults-only Halloween parties in Atlanta. Man, the nightlife gets crazy down there. You should see the costumes these women put on, brother, and they are wild." 

"Please, spare me," Rick said dryly. "I don't need to know." 

"Aww, you're just jealous," Shane shot back with a grin, knowing damn well Rick wasn't. His best friend was a happily married family man, and Shane was the crazy one. "So if you hate Halloween so damn much, what are you gonna do next year? Lori went all out this year and she's only a few months pregnant. That zombie mom and baby-eating-its-way-out costume is nuts. Next year, when the kid's actually here, you think she's gonna just hang out at home?" 

Rick groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Costume's creepy as hell. The baby is eating its way out, how is that- how is that appropriate? And I don't know. Probably tag along in uniform and check every damn piece of candy before they get to eat any. And don't think you'll get out of coming with me, man. Adult-only parties will have to wait." 

Shane snorted. "Nope. Halloween's sacred, my friend. It's for cocktails with dry ice and pure alcohol, women in skimpy outfits they call costumes, and Reverend Shane doing some wild sinning." 

"That's truly disgusting, brother, I hope you know that," Rick said with a lift of his lip. He was starting out the window at something in the distance, and Shane looked over Rick's shoulder to see what it was. "Reverend Shane is gonna need to do some confessing. Some day, man, you're gonna meet a girl and she's going to make you regret every comment like that you've ever made." 

"Naw," Shane dismissed easily. "Ain't a woman alive I want to put up with the rest of my life, and even fewer want to put up with me. Besides, even if I settle down eventually, join you and Lori in holy matrimony, any woman I'm with'll have to love Reverend Shane's commentary. Guy Gospel is sacrosanct, brother, even over marriage. What the hell are you looking at so hard, man?" 

"Just wait, 22. Just wait. You see that van right there? There's someone in it." Rick pointed and Shane squinted at the van in question, blacked out windows and parked under a broken streetlight. 

He grunted and watched it, and sure enough as the next group of giggling kids wandered by he caught the movement as well. He sighed. “Maybe it’s nothing?” 

“Yeah. Maybe,” Rick agreed. 

Shane knew it was wishful thinking and they both reach for their door handles at the same time. 

“Wait,” Shane snapped as two kids came running by themselves and headed down that street. “Shit. Let’s go.” 

They moved fast now as the kids headed toward the van and the side door slid open. A man dressed as a doctor appeared with a candy bucket in hand. 

“King County Sheriff’s Department,” Rick called. “Sir, step outside the vehicle. Kids, go find your parents.” 

The two kids looked at Shane and Rick with wide eyes as he sauntered over to the man in the van. Shane stayed by the kids, ready to draw and cover Rick if the pervert made a move. 

“Are you really a cop?” the wide-eyed cowboy whispered. 

“Yeah, kid,” Shane answered absently, his attention mostly on the asshole trying to persuade Rick that this situation was entirely coincidental and aboveboard. Cause single middle aged men routinely passed out candy to unaccompanied small children from vans in the dark. 

Shane fucking hated this shift.

“Then can you please arrest my sister?" the cowboy asked him in deadly serious tones. "She stole my Reese’s cup.” 

Shane glanced down at the cowboy and his sister, a princess judging by the massive polyester dress and the tiara. His lips twitched at the disgusted look on the cowboy's face and the innocent one from the princess, and he opened his mouth to respond when he heard a shout and a thunk from the car. 

He drew, stepping in front of the kids as his eyes snapped anxiously back to Rick, already terrified that he'd fucked up by taking his eyes off his partner for two damn seconds. Lori would have his head if anything happened to Rick, and Shane would let her. 

He lowered his gun with a sigh of relief as Rick snapped his cuffs into place on the fake doctor and shot Shane a glare. 

"Radio it in, then get the kids back to their parents," Rick said with a snarl. "He's got kiddie, ah-" Rick cut off and eyed the munchkins just behind Shane. 

Shane reached for the radio on his shoulder and started rattling off codes while Rick pulled the guy off the van and hustled him to their cruiser. Then he turned to the cowboy and the princess and frowned at them. "Ok, what am I going to do with you two?" 

"I told you. Arrest my sister," the cowboy declared solemnly.

They made their way up the street and had to fucking stop and do some more slaying. Shane had blood and guts on his hands and up to his elbows, and he was starting to think the whole fucking world was out to get him. 

Then Rick and Michonne appeared with another round of questions, and he snarled impatiently and went through the whole damn thing again. Finally he simply took off in the direction Merle had pointed. Slugger was up there, and Shane had an awful churning in his stomach that said he was failing her yet again with every goddamn minute wasted. 

He was holding a walker at arm's length, knife pulled back in his hand for the killing strike, when the gunshot went off.


	81. Lie #81: "This Is Perfect" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
mentions of past domestic violence/abuse  
mentions of past rape/non con

You were pleasantly surprised when Shane didn't fucking argue about you going to check out the fire, even when you knew he wanted to. 

And ok, fine, maybe you had been hiding from him a bit while he was packing, but it was only because you hated the thought of him leaving again so damn soon. You hated knowing he was going to be away from you more than he was with you until they were found, and you resented that look in his eyes that said this wasn't something up for negotiation. 

You wanted Malcolm dead, sure. You wanted the Governor dead as well, because they were threats. You just wanted Shane more. Besides, you were about seventy five percent certain they wouldn't find either of them. Malcolm truly was the cockroach Shane was calling him these days, and he'd find a way to survive. The Governor was too damn crafty to get caught, though if the fire was at Woodbury like your people thought, maybe you were wrong about both those assessments.

In the truck, you threaded your fingers in Shane's hair and tried to hold onto the fact that he was here now, and he hadn't tried to keep you away from this. At least for this bit, you could watch his back. 

Ok, there was no fucking way Shane was going to believe you hadn’t ditched him on purpose. But you really hadn’t. You thought he was with you right up until you saw the building Malcolm’s apartment had been in, jerked to a stop, and reached for Shane’s hand. 

Empty air greeted you and you whirled around, heart beating rapidly as you realized he was gone. 

And the thing was, you were going to go back and look for him. You were. Hand to God, you were headed that way.

But then you caught movement in one of the windows and you knew. 

There wasn’t time for finding Shane. Not when you could end this right now and if you left, he might get away again. In the chaos and the smoke and the walkers, it was almost a damn guarantee that he would. 

You pulled your gun and headed toward the wide-open door. 

You moved up the stairs slowly, keeping your steps light and your breathing controlled as you went. If he was up here- 

There was a grunt and a hiss of pain, and you blew out a long, silent breath. No 'if' about it anymore; he was definitely in there. You were definitely doing this. Holy shit, Shane was going to kill you. 

You cleared the door the way Shane had taught you, keeping to the edges of the frame as much as possible. Keep low, stay covered- you know, in case of assassins and hit men. You'd teased Shane about it relentlessly, but suddenly it didn't seem so insane. 

You shouldn't have worried, since he stood leaning against the dresser with his back to you. His shirt was off and he was currently taping a bandage in place against his side with one arm, because the other was in a sling. 

You took a deep breath and deliberately didn't look at the bed. Or the corner where Andrea had found you. Or the table where- 

You kept your eyes and the gun in your strangely steady hands fixed on him. "Hello, Malcolm." 

For your first date, Malcolm Hall pulled out all the damn stops. He'd told you to dress up, so you had, and you had not been disappointed when he showed up in all black- suit pants, vest, and dress shirt, with the top few buttons of the shirt undone in a way that made you itch to undo the rest of them. 

His eyes swept over you and he whistled. "Wow." 

You grinned and shrugged, grabbing your leather jacket as you stepped into the hall and closed the door. 

"I mean, I was expecting a dress, but holy shit you make that look better than any dress could," he added. 

You blushed a little under the praise, but he was right- you looked damn better than you would in any dress. Plus, the silver lace bodysuit, black flare-leg suit trousers, and the deep maroon leather jacket you swung on over the barely-there top to complete the outfit fucking popped against Mal’s all-black. 

Malcolm helped you pull the long French braid you'd done with your bleach to white hair out of the back of the jacket, his hands lingering on your shoulders maybe a touch longer than necessary. 

"No bag?" he inquired. 

You shrugged. "The best thing about pants and this jacket? Pockets. I've got everything I need." 

Mal laughed. "Whatever works, I guess. You look amazing." 

He hailed a cab and rattled off an address, and when you pulled up in front of the Museum of Contemporary Art, you turned to him and stared. He slid out first and came around to open your door, reaching out a hand for yours. 

"You have tickets for the gala tonight?" you demanded, excitement bubbling up in you. "I tried to get into this for weeks and kept getting blocked!" 

Mal shrugged. "Grave Behavior played a gig here once. I made a call, got a couple tickets." 

You shook your head and laced your fingers through his. "This is perfect, oh my God, Mal." 

"I thought it was right up your alley, with the painting thing." 

“Hey, Ace,” Mal grunted, not bothering to turn. “Gonna finish the job?” 

“I’m thinking about it,” you admitted. “Where’s your one-eyed friend?” 

Mal snorted and shot you a look over his shoulder. It was hard to see in him anymore the boy you’d crushed on in high school, the cocky rock star you’d lusted after in the Whiskey Lullaby a few years later, or the sweet, thoughtful man you’d started dating- the one who’d taken you to art museums and watched you paint and showered you with compliments and attention at every turn. 

That was the thing, see, the one Shane had never understood. Hell, maybe you’d never really understood it yourself either. It hadn’t been bad from the beginning. He hadn’t started hitting you right away. He’d been a whirlwind of romance that had swept you off your feet and carried you away until suddenly you were making excuses for him being-

Well, being this dick, you thought as he turned and leaned against the dresser to smirk at you.

“That psycho? I ditched him. He’s lost his mind. Won’t last long out there,” Mal said, and jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “I knew you’d come back.” 

Your lip curled. “I’m only here by coincidence, asshole.” 

“No,” he said firmly. “No, it’s fate. You and me, Ace. Meant to be. We had all that unpleasantness with the officer trying to separate us, the dead started rising, your brother put out a hit on me- but here we still are. You and me, at the end of the world. We’re soulmates, Ace. You’re mine.” 

Ok, no. That bullshit was way too weird, for one, and way too similar to things you’d thought about you and Shane. You kept your voice steady and your hands too when he took a step toward you. 

“Stay where you are, Malcolm. You’re injured. I don’t want to kill you, but you do need to answer for your actions. When Shane and my brothers get here, we’ll take you back to the prison and figure out what to do with you.” 

He chuckled, his eyes going from open to hard and dangerous so fast the adrenaline made you dizzy as fear washed through you. That was a man you recognized, this predator who looked at you a certain way and you found yourself watching his every move for signs about his mood. You were doing that now, frozen in place and analyzing the tilt of his shoulders and the line of his jaw like your life depended on it. Hell, maybe your life did depend on it.

Goddamn your tendency to freeze up. It was going to get you killed someday.

“I’m so sick of Shane Walsh and Merle Dixon. That bastard taught me some good moves, but he was a jerk and an asshole, and I’m so glad I’ll have the chance to kill him too. And fucking Shane.... Well. I'm going to enjoying taking him down a few pegs. Both of them, and your twin too. They’re bad influences on you, Ace,” he informed you, and his tone had your throat going dry.

He was suddenly much closer to you and you didn’t remember him moving. “Malcolm, I mean it. Freeze, you bastard, or I’ll shoot you.” 

Mal laughed, mocking and dismissive, and your stomach rolled. He’d laughed like that in this room before, when you’d cried as you begged him to stop; to let you rest. When you'd been almost on your hands and knees and bleeding, clutching your side and trying not throw up, and he'd wrapped a hand in your hair and tugged your head back and laughed when you cried out in pain. “My little Ace,” he said now with a sigh and a shake of his head, drawing you out of the swirling memory. “You should know by now you’re harmless. Why don’t you let me take that-“ 

He reached out like he was going to take the gun and backhanded you across your still-healing cheek. You yelped at the pain, and he moved toward you, and-

Your hands shook as you made your way down the stairs, one foot carefully in front of the other. Wouldn’t do to fall and get hurt. That would just make everything worse when Shane got to you. 

The shot would draw walkers, like the flames that had finally reached this building. Thick smoke rolled into the stairwell and you stared at it blankly. When you started coughing, you yanked your shirt over your nose and jumped into motion again, stumbling more quickly down the stairs and toward the door. All you had to do was make it out. Shane would be there if you made it out. 

You slammed a shoulder into the door frame as you nearly fell through it and into clearer air, leaning against the building and trying to breathe. That was a serious problem, since your stomach decided to start heaving again too. You'd already puked everything up, back upstairs when- back upstairs. But no one had told your stomach that, and it was still competing with your lungs to see which would come out your throat first. 

“Ace!” 

Shit, you thought. You should really be not coughing and heaving for this, but there wasn’t anything you could do about that now. 

Something wet slid down your neck and your stomach clenched even more than before. You worked very, very hard to not know what it was on your skin, and you were please when you succeeded. 

“Slugger, Goddamn it, is that- are you-" Shane’s hands were frantic, turning you and running over your arms, your shoulders, your sides; roughly checking you over before he caught your face in his hands and stared into your eyes. “Sweetheart, you ok? Ace?” 

“I’m-" you started coughing again and Daryl appeared at Shane’s elbow. 

“Hey, sis. Don’t breathe the smoke. Shane, this ones goin’ up fast. We gotta clear outta here, man.” 

“No. Ace, is he in there?” Shane snapped, his eyes not leaving yours. 

You nodded as you kept trying to fucking breathe, and Shane kissed you fast and hard and started for the entrance. You grabbed his hand, stopping him abruptly, and he turned with a snarl and a wild gesture. 

“I’m gonna kill him, Ace, I told you!”

“I already did!” you managed, your voice a rasping croak from the smoke and the coughing and a lucky flail from Mal that had landed on the side of your throat and almost taken you down.

Almost, you thought with a flinch as the shot echoed in your mind. 

"He's dead, hero," you added softly.

Shane was staring at you, something in his eyes that made you shift yours away from him like you’d done something wrong. Guilt filled you along with the horror you were trying so very hard to ignore, and the mix of emotions threatened to sweep you under into screaming lunacy. So you focused on the guilt, because that was the easiest to deal with, and the look on Shane's face. Would he not love you now that you were a killer too? 

“Good job, sis,” Daryl said fiercely. “Now come on, there's walkers pourin’ in. We gotta fuckin’ go.”

Shane didn't say another word, staring at the burning apartment complex until Daryl grabbed your hand with an annoyed sigh and started hustling you down the street. Merle yelled something behind you at Shane, and you turned to look at them as another coughing fit overtook you. 

Smoke was pouring from a lot of buildings now as the fire spread further into Woodbury. You tried to work up the energy to be annoyed at all the potential supplies and comfort items being lost, but you couldn't. Your mind was still swirling with the knowledge, the certainty, that Malcolm was finally fucking dead. 

Daryl glanced at you when you coughed violently and ripped the bandanna from his own face to tie it impatiently over yours. His movements were sharp and harsh and he was far from gentle, but you read the concern in his eyes and added guilt for worrying him into the mayhem that currently made up your mind. Rick and Michonne were walking on either side of you now, Michonne with her sword out and blade bloody, and Rick with that head-tilted grim look he got when shit was going down. 

But what shit was going down? And where the hell were Shane and Merle? 

"Daryl. Shane? Merle?" you asked, stopping and looking behind you. You didn't see either of them, and sudden, brutal fear had you fumbling for your Glock with shaking hands.

"Ya cop's bein' an idiot and ya brother's watchin' his ass," Daryl snarled. "Come on, we're going to the truck. They'll be behind us soon enough." 

"Daryl," you repeated, eyes narrowing on him. "Where-?" 

"Sis, shut up. They'll be- look, there they are," he snapped right back. 

Sure enough, they strode up out of the smoke, Merle looking pissed and Shane- you didn't understand Shane's expression. He walked right up to you and pulled you against his side, his arm around your waist as he keep walking with barely a glance at Daryl. Merle snorted and started muttering behind you, but Shane was moving you along damn quickly now and you really wanted to let your brain just… stop. 

Shit had happened and you needed to process it, to feel it, but right now you wanted to be numb and curled up in Shane's arms, and you wanted him to not be angry at you. 

That, unfortunately, didn't seem to be in the cards, since he shot you a glare when you moved to take out a walker by the truck and handled it for you with a vicious stab up under the dead guy's chin. Shane lifted you into the truck bed before you could climb in on your own, and you scooted down toward the cab as Rick fired it up and your brothers jumped up and sat with matching Dixon scowls at you, at the walkers, at the world. 

Then Shane was pulling you into him and you leaned against his shoulder, closed your eyes, and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to finish this whole thing before I left for a trip this weekend, but that didn't happen. But I'll be back at the keys Monday, and hopefully this chapter will tide you guys over until then!


	82. Lie #82: “I’m Not Going Out There With Them” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
References to past abuse/ rape/non con

Daryl was right; they needed to move. The whole fucking street was going up in flames and walkers had to be coming from all directions. Shane stared at the building Ace had come stumbling out of, and he knew he couldn't leave yet. Ace’s lip was bleeding- again- and she had that hollow, glassy look in her eyes, and Shane needed to be certain he was dead. He had to see it with his own eyes.

Daryl gave him that annoyed snarl and hustled Ace away, and Shane was content with that. If she was with Daryl, Shane could do what he needed to without worrying about her. One thing about her brothers, especially Daryl- Shane trusted them to take care of his Slugger almost more than he trusted himself. He turned as Daryl lead her away and started toward the apartment building. 

“What the hell ya think ya doin’, idiot?” 

Shane glared at Merle and shook the man’s hand off his arm. “I’m going to make sure.” 

“You don’t think my little sister knows what dead looks like? Building’s gone up like a damn bonfire. Stupid to go in there,” Merle informed him, entirely reasonably. 

Problem was, Shane wasn’t exactly known for being all that reasonable. Certainly not about Malcolm fucking Hall, and there was no way he was going to let that cockroach escape again. No way. 

He didn’t respond to Dixon, plunging headlong into the smoke instead. He pulled his shirt over his nose and started for the first door he saw, not knowing which apartment it was. He'd check them all if he had to, or as many as he could before the fire made it impossible. 

Merle grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the stairs. “If ya gonna be a damn fool, I guess Imma keep ya ass alive!” Merle snapped. “That way, Walsh.” 

Shane headed up the stairs.

Ace had been right. He was dead. 

Shane’s Slugger had shot him messily, at a weird angle through his cheekbone and into his brain. Shane wondered what Hall had been doing to her to make her need to take a shot from there. The damn bullet could have gone through Hall and into her. 

Shane reminded himself that wasn't the case, even as his stomach lurched a little with the memory of the single crack that had split the air.

He grabbed at his knife and jerked the bastard’s head back, and Merle Dixon once again grabbed him. Shane whirled on Merle with a snarl, only to see flames creeping along the ceiling and coming up the staircase. Shit, they needed to go. 

"What the fuck are ya doin'?" Merle yelled at him when he turned back to Malcolm's body. 

Shane gestured with his knife. "I want his head." 

"Are you shittin' me? Come on, you idiot. Man's dead, and lil sis ain't gonna want his damn head on a platter. She done been traumatized enough. Come on before I knock ya across the head and carry ya ass out." 

Shane glared down at Malcolm and kicked brutally at his head, a wordless scream ripping out of him that had Merle's eyebrows shooting up in Shane's periferal vision. Merle pursed his lips in a soundless whistle when Shane spat on Malcolm's corpse for good measure and turned to the door. 

"Fucking bastard got off easy," Shane declared as he braced himself for the gauntlet they were about to run to get out of here. "Move fast." 

"No shit, Walsh." 

She looked worse outside of the smoke. She curled into his shoulder in the truck, and Shane tried to quell the rising tide of guilt and fear for her that threatened to swamp him when he saw the blood and brains on the side of her face, that grim exhaustion in her eyes, the way her hands shook. Daryl had given her his bandanna, and while Shane was grateful for the protection from the smoke, all it did was make him focus on the blank horror in her eyes. His stomach churned again and he reached for her, needing her in his arms while he reminded himself it was all over. 

Except, for Ace, it wasn't over. It never would be over, he thought as she came into his arms easily, collapsing against him while Rick started the truck moving out of the burning wreckage of Woodbury. Her hand gripped his shirt against his chest, and he covered it with his and stared at the world rushing by without seeing it as she started to cry. 

Ace had killed someone.

Oh, he'd fucking needed killing and Shane was glad as hell she had, since from the looks of it the other option would have been that asshole killing her. But Shane knew from personal experience how fucking hard taking another human being's life was and what it could do to your mind and your heart. 

He'd told Andrea once, on the farm, that shooting at a living, breathing person was different than paper targets. To do it, a person had to flip a switch in their mind, turning off the part of them that, essentially, gave a shit about anything other than survival. Shane had flipped that switch enough times now he was starting to think it was like women and the goddamn lights- only went one way.

Shane had been well on his way to becoming a monster, after Otis, and he wasn't sure he'd come all the way back. He was ok with that. It was what he did. He kept people, kept the group and kept Ace and his baby, safe. Protect and serve, that was the oath he swore, and just because the world ended didn't mean he'd given it up. 

He'd just narrowed his focus to a few people he was sworn to protect. 

Ace wasn't like that. Ace was, in Shane's mind, the embodiment of all that was goddamn good in the world still. She was light and laughter and paint on her hands and sappy love songs. Sure, she was a badass against the walkers and a tough bitch when she needed to be, but Slugger hated violence right down to her very core. She'd rather talk her way out of a problem or simply pretend it didn't exist, and now- 

Now she'd had to flip that switch. On the other side of it was flipping it back, and living with what you'd done, and Shane- 

He pulled her closer, his hand tightening over hers as her crying gave way an exhausted slump against him, wondered if his Slugger would be able to live with what she'd done in the cold light of day. 

He'd failed her again. He should have fucking been there to do this for her. He could do it, no hesitation and no qualms. She shouldn't have had to. 

They pulled into the prison and Shane sighed at all the new faces milling around, looks being shot their way as Rick pulled the truck around to the vehicle bay. Shane knew damn well if any of these new people asked the wrong question, he was going to go off like a fucking grenade, and wouldn't that just foster excellent relations? 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Carol and Glenn come jogging toward them, and Rick hopped out and started giving directions to everyone that Shane promptly tuned out because he didn't give a fuck. 

"Shane?" Ace said quietly. She pushed off of his shoulder and pulled the bandanna down from her face, and Shane's eyes lingered on her split lip and the shadow of a fresh bruise on her cheek. "Shane, I-" 

"Shh," he told her mildly. He scooted them both toward the tailgate and Daryl held up a hand absently to her, his attention on what Rick was going on about. 

Shane hopped down after Ace and started leading her away from them without a word to the others. She came, shooting glances at him as they walked, and Shane felt like shit for not talking to her. Thing was, he couldn't. Not yet. He had to get himself under control first, and she needed a little time to process. 

And a goddamn shower, which was where he was taking her right now. 

At the shower doors she stopped and crossed her arms, looking at him anxiously. "Shane, will you wait a minute?" 

"Sweetheart," he said slowly, not looking in her eyes. "Get in the shower. I'll go get you some clothes." 

"Shane-" 

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss to her lips, then walked away before she could say anything else. 

Inside their cell he scooped up jeans and a ripped up tank from her pile, then paused and traded the tank for one of his own shirts instead. He grabbed her favorite of his flannels, still missing half its buttons because he hadn't worked up the courage to go ask Carol to put them back on for her, even though he'd found every damn one of those things scattered around their cell while she was sleeping. 

He went back out immediately, making it all the way out of C block and starting toward the showers when he saw her wings on the wall beside him. He stopped walking, staring at them and thinking about her singing in Spanish as she tossed paint cans from one hand to the other like she'd spin bottles behind the bar to rile a crowd up and get bigger tips. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against the wall, wondering just how many times he was going to fail the person he cared about most in the world. 

This was on him, damn it. He'd been playing around, playing cat-and-mouse with that cockroach in the woods to make him pay, and he'd gotten away. He'd gotten away and Ace was paying the price, like Ace always paid the price, and- 

"She ok?" 

Rick's voice cut through Shane's inner rant and Shane laughed harshly. He shoved off from the wall and ran a hand through his hair as he turned to his friend. "She shot him. She shot him and she killed him." 

"I know. Merle told me," Rick said, his head tilting a little as he squinted out toward the plume of smoke still in the sky. "Is she ok? Shit, are you?" 

"Ain't about me," Shane said tiredly. He leaned his back against the wall and sighed. "I never wanted her to- she's never- Shit, brother. I should have just killed that bastard the minute I saw him in the woods. I did this. I made this happen, and now Ace'll have to live with the fucking weight of-" 

"Stop," Rick said firmly. He grabbed Shane's shoulder and Shane looked at him. Rick shook his head, his jaw tightening before he spoke again. "Aren't you the one who told me not to go down this road? That the guilt is a monkey on your back that'll never go away? Shit happens. Ace can deal with it, as long as you're there for her. So what are you doing out here and not in there with her right now?" 

Fuck. Rick was right. Shane shoved off from the wall, grabbed Rick in a quick back-thumping hug, and went to take care of his girl.

"Tell her brothers and Michonne I'm staying here, but they need to find that one-eyed bastard," he called over his shoulder to Rick. "End this shit once and for all." 

He stepped into the showers and locked the door behind him. If anyone else needed one, they could just fucking wait. 

She'd taken the furthest stall, which didn't surprise him in the least. What did surprise him was that he didn't see her. The water was running, the steam was rising so she had it volcano-hot, the way she- and Shane as well- liked it, but she wasn't standing there, visible from the shoulders up behind the half-walls separating the stalls like she should have been. Shane frowned as his heart started to pound, dropped the clothes he'd brought for her onto the bench, and practically sprinted down the line of empty stalls. 

He rounded the half wall and froze, feeling like someone had stuck a knife in his guts. She was on her knees, bent over and heaving as she cried silently with her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. Shane could see her whole damn body shaking but she didn't let a single sound escape. 

It made him wonder how many times she'd sobbed alone and silently, and Shane wished he could kill Malcolm fucking Hall again. 

He took off his gun belt and hung it up and toed off his boots rapidly. Then he stepped into the spray, still completely dressed, and sat down beside her. He didn't touch her, waiting for her to notice him so he didn't startle her. 

She didn't look at him as she cried, pressing her lips together after her eyes flicked his way and then back to the tile floor, until Shane reached out one hand and touched the back of hers. The first pained sound came from her like it was ripped from her soul as his fingers brushed hers.

Just like that she was in his arms, wet and shaking and clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in her universe. Shane wrapped himself around her and started talking, just nonsense really about how it was alright and she as fine and he had her, the kind of reassuring babble designed simply to tell her he was there. Let her hear his voice and know she wasn't alone. He feathered kisses over her temple, her forehead, her hair, in between meaningless words and soothing noises. 

Shane wasn’t sure when she stopped crying, because he was soaked anyway, but she sniffed and push away from him a little to scrub at her face sometime after the water had dropped from boiling to merely hot. He didn’t let her go far, and he was grateful she’d already scrubbed the blood and brains from her hair as she sighed and stared at the wall beside his head. 

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“How many times you gonna apologize to me for something you have no business apologizing for tonight? I’ll issue a blanket ‘shut up’ right now so we can skip to the part where you talk to me,” he informed her with a roll of his eyes. 

She huffed out a half laugh and glanced at him before looking away. “You still love me, Dickhead?” 

Shane froze, her voice and that question taking him entirely by surprise. “What the hell kinda question? Of course I do. Shit, Slugger, what the fuck?” 

“I’m a killer now,” she whispered, still not looking at him, and Shane’s heart shattered on the tile floor. 

“You listen to me, Ace, and I mean it,” he said, taking her face in both his hands. She didn’t meet his eyes still, but at least she was looking in the general vicinity of his chin. He decided it was an improvement. “There is nothing in this world that will stop me loving you. Ok? Not a damn thing. There’s- shit, there’s not a thing you could ever do, all right? And- and certainly not putting down a piece of absolute filth like that goddamn cockroach.” 

Her face contorted and she shivered. Shane wrapped his arms around her again and shifted a little, pulling her in to lay against him. 

“Slugger, I’d- I’d do anything to take that off your shoulders. I never would have- I’m sorry I didn’t just end him in the woods. But you’re not a killer. You have killed someone, in self defense. That’s not a killer, that’s a survivor. A warrior. I’m a killer. So trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

She shook her head against his shoulder and he rolled his eyes. "Don't argue, Ace. Just talk. Tell me what happened. Why the hell did you disappear out there? Scared the shit out of me. Then we heard the gunshot and-" 

It was his turn to cut off as his throat closed with the memory. He'd been certain she was dead, and the building being on fire had done nothing to calm the pounding of his pulse or the terror clouding his mind in red haze. 

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't mean to?" she asked wryly. 

He snorted. "Probably not, but let's pretend I do." 

She half-laughed again, and it sounded more like her. "I really didn't. I thought you were with me, and then I reached for your hand and you weren't there. I was coming back for you. But I saw the movement and I- I knew he'd get away again if I left." 

"Like fucking Randall all over again. Cut that shit out, sweetheart. If they escape, they escape. Not worth putting yourself in danger," Shane insisted, and he felt her heave a sigh. 

She pulled back again to shoot him a glare. "Says the asshole with the hero complex who ran into a burning building. Anyway, I- I went up there. To the- to his-" 

Her breath hitched and Shane touched her cheek as her eyes went blank and distant for a minute. She leaned into his palm and swallowed, forcing herself to continue. "He was hurt and I didn't want to shoot him, but he started in on this shit about how he and I were- were soulmates. And you and my brothers are bad influences on me, and I mean I almost agree with him about Merle, but he kept coming closer, and I told him to freeze. He reached for the gun and he hit me instead, and-" 

She shuddered again. Shane leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the cut on her lip. She sighed and when he pulled back her eyes were closed. 

"I don't know, Shane, I just- we fought. I've fought back against him before, so he knows- knew- I could throw a damn punch. I don't know what happened exactly, but somehow he pinned me. He shouldn't have been able to, damn it," she snapped, her eyes opening as sudden anger filled her voice. "He had one arm and a bullet hole in him. Goddamn it." 

"Stop. He's also bigger than you, and he's been training with Merle. Ace, you're tough shit, but you're not exactly a brawler," Shane said with a shrug. "What happened next? Get it all out." 

She sighed and leaned into his hand some more. "I- I- I managed to get the gun up. And I knew it was risky but he'd hit me in the throat once and he was trying to get his hand… he was going to kill me. I didn't have a choice, Shane. I had to take that shot. I'm fuckin'- I'm fuckin' lucky it didn't go all the way through him." 

Shane closed his own eyes and thanked every god in the damn universe for that one, critical fact. "Shit, sweetheart."

"Sorry," she whispered again, and leaned in against him. 

"Shut up." 

She laughed and leaned up to kiss his jaw. "Oh, I love you. I really am sorry, Shane." 

"I love you too, damn it. Don't flirt your way out of this," he muttered, knowing she wanted him to turn the conversation light again. He obliged, but he didn't stop thinking about how goddamn close he came to losing her. 

"Sweetheart," he whispered after a pause. She stirred in his arms and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. The shower temperature had dropped considerably, and Shane wondered how long they'd been in here. "I know it's a nightmare. But I'm so goddamn proud of you. And I'm glad he's dead." 

She sighed. "I'm glad he's dead too. I wish it hadn't been- like that. But I'm glad he's dead." 

"You're gonna be ok," Shane told her firmly. 

"I've got you, don't I? I already am ok." 

Shane smiled a little at that. "Think that's backwards, Ace." 

"Naw." She dismissed him easily, and Shane sighed as she pulled away from him again, this time standing and reaching for the shampoo. 

Shane took it from her hands and gestured her to turn around. "Don't argue, you'll run out of hot water." 

She snorted, but did as she was told, and Shane squirted shampoo into his hands and started working it through her hair. "I've already done it twice. It really doesn't need it again, but…" 

She trailed off and Shane's hands still for a minute. Then he started back up, working tangles from her hair as he went. After a pause, she sighed. 

"You going to tell me about going back in there, or are you waiting until I'm dressed so I can yell at you properly?" 

Shane laughed at that one and turned her to face him so he could rinse her hair. She lifted an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. "Slugger, one of us being naked has never stopped you from yelling at me before. Why would it now? I wanted his head. I didn't get it. Your asshole brother talked some sense into me." 

"Merle? That doesn't seem right," she muttered.

Shane grinned in appreciation and shrugged. "He did. Look, I'm staying here. I'm not going out there with them," he told her, sobering. "Governor needs to be found, but I need to be here. We done? Water's going cold." 

She shivered slightly, but nodded. "Mal's dead. I killed him. You know what? I can live with it, because it got me back to you. Yeah. Yeah, we're done," she said firmly, and turned the water off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m backkkkkk!!!!


	83. Lie #83: "Well, This Day Had Been Going Too Well" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
cannon typical violence  
mild smut

The trilling whistle ticked upward at the end, like a question, and you rolled your eyes to heaven- or rather, the ceiling- and sighed. You whistled back, the 'yes I'm fine' signal, and mumbled about over protective brothers as you turned back to the shelf you were studying. Had the supply list included alcohol? No, it had not. 

Were you getting some anyway? Yes, you were. 

"Ugh, pre-made margarita mix." You shuddered and moved on, pulling bottles and adding them to your cart. It was all wine and beer, but that was fine. Anything was better than nothing, right? And maybe you and Daryl would find a liquor store and you could really dust off some unused skills. Make a margarita for real. 

"Sis, how we- ya serious right now?" Daryl came around the corner with a cart of his own and he rolled his eyes at the contents of yours. "Shit." 

"Once a bartender, always a bartender," you said cheerfully. "What else is on the list? We hitting anywhere else?" 

"Yeah, there's a place just down. Hardware store. Carol wants an outdoor kitchen," Daryl said with a wrinkle of his nose. "So guess who's building that shit?" 

"You and Rick?" you suggested with a laugh, falling into step behind him. "That's cool. I can stock back up on paint." 

"There a wall in that damn prison ya ain't drawn all over?" 

You started loading bottles from your cart into the backseat of the truck while Daryl slung full pallets of canned and boxed food into the truck bed. Feminine hygiene products, several boxes of condoms, and a couple of pregnancy tests also went in, as well as every single bit of medicine, bandages, or ointments that had been in the medical aisle. Add in the shampoo, soap, razors and ever-necessary toilet paper, and you and Daryl were going to be hailed as fucking heroes when you got back. This place had been a damn good find, you thought with satisfaction as you looked at the haul already filling the backseat. 

"So, hardware store?" you said brightly. 

Daryl grunted and eyed you as you started walking down to it. "When they due back?" 

You shrugged. "Either today or tomorrow. Could be later if they got hung up. They were heading out a fair bit this time." 

Daryl tossed hair from his eyes and nodded. "I know. I see the map. Ya really think they're gonna find him?" 

"You don't?" you asked with a shrug. "I think Shane and Michonne need it to be over. I think Merle just likes not being in prison." 

Daryl chuckled. "Yeah, that's about right. I know ya miss 'im." 

"I do," you agreed with a sigh. "Hence, the booze and the paint. Think there's a liquor store around? I'd like to mix a proper drink. Maybe you can build me a bar along with Carol's kitchen." 

"No. Ya want a bar, build it ya damn self." 

You grinned, but as you and Daryl split up in the hardware store, you felt the smile slide off your face. Your brother was right. You missed Shane so damn much. 

It didn't matter that you'd been the one to tell him, firmly but kindly, that if he didn't leave with Michonne and Merle on their second trip, you would go instead. It didn't matter that you'd been ready to move into death row or isolation to get a moment's fucking peace within three days of killing Malcolm, because Shane had been hovering so goddamn badly you were ready to rip your hair out. It didn't matter that he'd checked in, as promised, between every trip over the two months since you'd ordered him to go like he so clearly needed to. 

You missed the hell out of him, and you had been for ages. Daryl was right about the prison; inside C block there was very little grey wall anymore. You'd done commissions in other people's cells, painted nearly every bit of space in the common areas, and added a fair number of paintings to the outside walls as well. You'd filled up three sketchbooks with portraits of everyone there and those you'd lost, and given most of them away. 

When Michonne, Merle, and Daryl had come back from searching the first grid, you'd taken their map and the package of Sharpies Shane had brought you after a supply run he'd steadfastly refused to allow you on- the first of many arguments about what you would and would not be doing outside the prison fences- and reproduced the map on the wall in the common area. You'd made it oversize but completely faithful, and marked each grid. You'd added a legend and color-coded different things found on their searches- red for danger, green for places that needed scavenging, orange for places that had been picked over, etc. When you turned up a pack of post-it notes, you color coordinated those as well, to show herds and other temporary dangers. 

Everyone updated the map as they went in and out of the prison, and Rick's eyes had fucking glowed when he realized what you were doing. He tried to make you a member of his weird new Council on the spot, but you'd laughed in his face outright. You had absolutely zero desire to run this joint, and you stood firm in your resolution to not be involved. 

You had, however, made a few suggestions for who should be on it. Rick had been thoroughly confused by two of them, and you still thought he was making a mistake in not putting Carl on there. However, he had eventually agreed with you on Merle, much to everyone- including Merle's- surprise. 

Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Sasha, Hershel, and Shane rounded it out, and they were doing a damn good job. Having three of the members out on long runs had caused some serious consternation, which was why Daryl had rolled his eyes and agreed to stay behind. It kept the number of voters on the Council uneven, so there couldn't be any tie breaker problems, but for the most part the Council voted unanimously anyway. 

And usually, to your delight, to do whatever Carol had suggested doing. 

So far, Shane, Merle, and Michonne had cleared three more of the grid areas, and were out on their fourth long haul. They'd been gone two weeks, the longest trip so far, and you were anxiously awaiting their return. There'd been no sign of the Governor in all their searching, and you were coming to the conclusion that he was either dead already or long fucking gone. After all, why would he bother to stick around here? He'd lost, rather spectacularly, and he had to know your group would kill him on sight. 

You wished Shane would just stay home already. Merle and Michonne too, because you loved your asshole brother and Michonne was cool as fuck, but mostly Shane. You missed talking to him. You missed waking up and sleeping next to him. You missed his voice and him playing with your hair and being called Slugger and telling him about your adventures. You missed the stupid prank war that you'd amped back up while he was driving you absolutely insane. 

He had not been amused by the red dye in his shampoo bottle, but what else were you going to do with the seventeen different boxes of dye he'd brought you along with the Sharpies? Your hair was back to blue, thank God; Carol had rocked a nice purple streak for awhile, and Carl had, much to Rick's dismay, talked you into dying his green. He loved it. Rick had stared like his eyes would pop out but eventually had sighed and admitted the kid looked pretty damn rad. 

Shane had not appreciated being turned into a redhead, but you'd at least used the wash-out kind. He'd gotten you back after his first trip with Merle and Michonne when he substituted- and you honestly had no fucking idea how- the regular top to a black spray paint with a goddamn air horn. You’d screamed and woken up half the prison and he’d laughed his ass off- until Beth came in with a wailing Judith and handed her to Shane, walking away without a word. 

You sighed and pulled more of the mocked Rustoleum off the shelves and into your bag. Daryl rounded the corner in complete silence, scaring the shit out of you when he grabbed your elbow out of nowhere. 

"Daryl, what the fuck?" you snapped, and he slapped a hand over your mouth with a grim look. 

Well, shit, you thought, knowing what that meant. You nodded and he let go of you, and you pulled the long machete in one hand and checked to make sure you could easily draw the Glock Shane had refused to leave unless you promised to continue carrying. Daryl nodded and lead you back toward the front of the store, and you sighed when you eased around the corner and saw the group of them milling around outside. 

"Well, this day had been going too well," you muttered. "Make a break for it and come back later for the truck?" 

Daryl squinted between the truck and the walkers, and you knew what he was thinking. 

"Darrie, you cannot be serious," you hissed. "There's… well, I mean, I suppose…." 

"We can do it. There's not a ton of 'em between the door and the left side, we stick to the wall and we might even get by without bein' noticed." 

You did not make it out without a fight. You were, most indubitably, noticed. There was a fight, brutal and bloody and you were annoyed as hell as you came out of it. 

"Get by without bein' noticed, huh?" you snarled at Daryl as you looked forlornly down at your shirt. You'd gotten zombie blood splayed all over you, and you sighed at the mess. 

Thank god tomorrow’s laundry day, you thought with a mental shrug. 

“Just like the hospital,” Daryl said with a grin, tossing his hair from his eyes. It was getting long, and you had plans to come at him with some damn scissors soon. 

“Well, at least I wasn’t in a wheelchair this time,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. 

“Excuse me,” a voice said tentatively, and you whirled with your gun up and Daryl at your shoulder. 

The kid's name was Zach, and you supposed calling him a kid was a little unfair. He and the three others with him had been college students at Georgia Tech before the apocalypse began. They'd fought their way out of Atlanta and been just kind of roaming around surviving until they'd seen the two of you come out and, direct quote, "fuck some zombies up like pros, man." 

All of this was delivered in a rapid word vomit while Daryl held him at crossbow point and you covered the other three scared looking twenty somethings, dirty and carrying packs and holding knives. They looked terrified, and you didn't really blame them. 

You and Daryl exchanged a look as Zach continued babbling. You nodded slightly and Daryl rolled his eyes, but lowered his crossbow. You shoved the gun back into your holster as Daryl gave the kid a look. 

"You ever shut up?" your brother asked, and you grinned when one of his friends laughed. 

"Not really. Especially not when I'm looking down the business end of a weapon," the kid said. 

You smirked at that. "Ok, gentlemen. We have a place. It has walls, food, fences, and rules. You want in, you have to answer some questions." 

Zach nodded vigorously. "Anything. What questions? I'm an open book. So are they." 

"How many walkers have you killed?" you asked intently. 

The guys helped Daryl load the rest of Carol’s outdoor kitchen supplies, then hopped into the bed of the truck to ride back to the prison with you. Daryl drove, and you stared out the window and worried about Shane and Michonne and Merle. 

You hoped they’d be back today. You missed the hell out of your Dickhead. 

“Stop worryin’, sis. They’re fine,” Daryl said. “Besides, got plenty of damn paint now. Can do the whole damn prison while ya wait.” 

“I was thinking about chalking the courtyard,” you admitted with a shrug and a wave to Carl as he pulled open the main gate. “I haven’t played with chalk in… oh my god, they’re here!” 

Daryl chuckled as he pulled the truck into the courtyard and you flung the door open before it had stopped. The kids in the bed, your supplies, everything was forgotten as you flung yourself from the vehicle and screamed toward the figure standing in what would be Rick’s garden with your fearless leader. 

“Dickhead!” 

One of the kids muttered something and you ignored them to dash back down the path you’d just ridden up. Shane’s head shot up at the sound of your voice and he broke into a jog toward you as well. 

You flung your arms around him with a laugh as you collided, and he lifted you off the ground and held you close. You wrapped your legs around him and leaned back a little to beam into his face, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey, sweetheart. Where the hell have you been?” He demanded, looking annoyed. 

“Oh don’t start, Shane, we’ve literally said two words to each other-“

“There’s blood on your shirt, Slugger,” he snapped, glaring. 

You glared right back. “It’s walker blood. We had a slight herd problem, but we handled it. I’m fine; Dar had my back; and we brought in four college kids as well as a shit load of supplies. Are we done fighting now? You just got back and I’ve missed you, damn it.” Your tone softened at the end and you brought one hand to his cheek. 

He sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. “I missed you too. Didn’t find him. Got worried when you weren’t back when we got here.” 

“And no one told you where I was? Shane, come on, everyone knew where we were going. I told you I wasn’t staying put behind the fences. I know what I’m doing.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I know. I love you, Slugger.” 

“I love you too, hero,” you whispered. “Shut up and kiss me now.” 

Shane laughed and obliged, then tossed you over his shoulder and started back up the path while you cackled and thumped him on the back. Indulgent faces grinned and shook their heads at the two of you, and Shane slammed the door to C block closed with a resounding clang. 

“Anyone’s in here, be warned- Ace and I are about to fuck. Get out while you can!” He yelled. 

“Oh my God, Shane!” You squeaked, slapping a hand over your eyes and trying to pull yourself upright so you weren't upside down over his shoulder. “Jesus Christ.” 

“The Good Lord ain’t got nothin' to do with what you two are plannin', lil sis. I’m outta here,” Merle drawled as he came around the corner. “Try to be quiet, would ya?” 

“Missed you, asshole!” you yelled after him as Shane pulled back the curtain to your cell. 

"You too, sis!" Merle's voice echoed before the door clanged shut again.

Then Shane dumped you unceremoniously on your mattress and you lay there grinning up at him. He stared down at you, standing next to the bunk and just looking until you could feel yourself blush. 

“What?” you asked, shoving at your hair as you shifted from a smile to scowl. “What are you looking at?” 

He shook his head, hooking one hand on the upper bunk and not taking his eyes off you. “You. You're pretty. I missed you.” 

Your smile bloomed again as the faint blush deepened. “I missed you too,” you said softly, sitting up and sliding to sit on the edge of the bed with your legs to either side of his.

He shot you a look when you hooked your fingers in his belt loops, one hand coming to caress your cheek as you looked up at him. He bent and kissed you, and you slid your fingers from his belt loops to his ass and squeezed. He laughed against your lips and you broke the kiss with a roll of your eyes. 

Before he could say anything, you leaned forward and ran your tongue along the length of him, already visibly hard even through the jeans. He muttered a strangled oath and grabbed at your hair, tugging gently until you tipped your head up with an outrageous wink and a smirk. 

“Slugger…” he said with a glare, and you rolled your eyes again. 

“Shut up, hero,” you told him pointedly, hands busy with his gun belt. He shoved your hands away impatiently and did it himself, setting it carefully up on the top bunk, and you took advantage of his distraction to get his pants unbuttoned and unzipped without him realizing it. 

“Damn it, Ace, I don’t-“ he snarled, but that cut off into a groan as you tugged his jeans down and wrapped a hand around him. 

You bit your lip and met his glare, his forehead against the bunk he gripped in both hands. “Officer Walsh, no underwear? Kinky,” you teased. “You plannin' on getting lucky? And I’m fine. I’d tell you if I wasn’t. You gonna shut up now, or do I have to make you?” 

“I was planning on doin’ laundry. Slugger, you don’t- Fuck!” 

He bit out the last word when you bent and ran a long lick down him, starting just above that hand you still gripped him in, and he shivered. You looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow, and he glared harder but didn’t speak. 

“That’s better,” you muttered. “Told you, I’m fine. Now let me work.” 

“Work, is it?” he shot back. “Such a damn chore, don’t- Ace!” 

You slid your lips off him with an annoyed look as he grabbed at your hair. “What? I told you to shut up.”

“Goddamn it,” he growled, but he gave up as you leaned back in to run your fingers as well as your tongue over him this time. 

He stayed so fucking still as you worked him over, though his whole body trembled with the effort. Shane always did when you did this, and you'd told him it was unnecessary, but he didn't seem to care. His breathing got ragged and his voice went hoarse as he muttered a steady stream of mixed cursing, compliments, and your name, over and over. You knew without having to look that he’d have a death grip on the upper bunk, his eyes open as he stared down at you, and when you lifted your eyes to his you weren't disappointed by the look in them.

You took your time, driving him crazy with your lips and tongue and the barest edge of lightly scraping teeth like you knew he liked, until finally you had the whole length of him in your mouth, your hands braced on his hips as you moved, and he grabbed your hair and pulled you off with a sharp ‘fuck’.

“Gonna have to stop that if you wanna have any other kinda fun, sweetheart,” he growled out, and you smiled and batted your lashes innocently. He glared at you for a minute longer before groaning again. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Come here,” he ordered, hauling you to your feet. He pulled you in for a hard kiss, biting down on your lip so your breath caught harshly, then spun you around and pushed you up against the wall. You caught yourself and gasped a little, hands pressed flat and digging into the cinder block as you looked over your shoulder to meet his predatory look. He pulled your shirt up and over your head, then his mouth was following his hands down your back until you shivered and bit at your lip in anticipation. 

He turned you around again, on his knees now in front of you, and you curled a hand in his hair and dug the other into his shoulder, moaning his name as he traced the stone in your navel with his tongue. He worked the button on your jeans as he trailed kissed up your body and climbed to his feet, and soon enough his mouth was hot and hungry on yours as he maneuvered you both until you were falling backward onto the bunk again. 

“My turn,” he whispered against your lips. Then he tossed your leg up over his shoulder and ran his fingers along the inside of your thigh as he met your eyes with a gleam in his that had your breath hitching on his name again. Your skin burst into flame everywhere he touched you and your hips were already rising up to meet him as he lowered his mouth to you with his eyes still holding yours. “Better hold onto something, Slugger. I’m gonna make you scream.” 

“Wish you’d stay,” you whispered to him a few hours later. 

He sighed and kissed your hair. “I gotta find him, Ace. Gotta know it’s over.” 

“I know.” You curled closer and hooked your leg over his hip. “At least you’re home for a week. Right?” 

“Right,” he agreed. His fingers stroked down your arm in a soothing gesture, and you laid there staring at the light and shadows on the cell wall. Finally you sighed and closed your eyes, holding him close and listening to his heartbeat until you fell asleep.


	84. Lie #84: “I Used To Be A Cop” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence

“Ya bank that fire?” 

“Did I- of course I banked the fire. How dumb do you think I am?” 

“I don’t know, darlin’, ya forgot-“

“One time! One time, you redneck asshole!” Michonne’s voice was a vicious hiss and Shane rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh.

He was tired, he was cold, and he was sick of listening to these two bicker. Why the hell was he here? He could have been curled around Ace right now, warm in bed. But instead he was out here with these two bickering idiots, looking for a man they may never actually find. 

Shane was starting to think he was insane. 

"Would you two just shut up and come on?" he snapped, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "We're already going to be two days late getting back if we keep pushing. Let's not make it three." 

"Touchy, touchy," Merle muttered. "Someone needs to get laid." 

"Yeah, I could be fuckin' your sister right now if I'd stayed home. Shut the fuck up, you redneck hick, and get in the car," Shane snarled, hopping behind the wheel and breathing deeply. The look on Merle's face made it almost worth listening to his lecture about treating Ace right on the way to their next planned campsite. 

Shane updated the map with their progress, marking the area they'd finished yesterday and the one they'd cleared today with relevant information. They'd cleared out a few walkers, but no herds in awhile. 

No one-eyed asshole either, he thought with a grimace. And they had another two days on this grid and then what should be another six back to get home through the next one. 

Shane sighed and folded the map back up, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He missed Ace. He missed Judith. Shit, his baby had grown a lot in the past four months and he'd missed most of it. She had Rick and Carl and Beth and Ace, but- 

Shane hated missing her life. He hated missing his life. 

"We're going to find him," Michonne said softly. She was on lookout duty at the window, rifle in her hands and scope to her eye. Dixon lay sacked out and snoring already, and Shane knew he should be sleeping too. He would be taking third watch tonight, after all. 

He sighed again. "Are we? Is it worth all this, really? I'm missing Judy growing up. I miss Carl and Rick." 

"And Ace," Michonne said with a slight smile. 

"Yeah, and Slugger," Shane agreed. "Miss her most of all. Maybe even more than my little girl, and don't that make me a shit dad?" 

Michonne was quiet for a minute. "I had a son," she said softly. "His name was Andre. He was three." 

Shane stared, his heart catching at the tone of her voice. "I didn't know that." 

"I don't talk about him. I told Carl, in King County. Carl's a good kid." 

"Carl's the best kid," Shane agreed. "There isn't another like him." 

Michonne nodded and look at Shane, a soft, sad smile on her lips. "I get why you're out here. It's why I am. I'm not sure why Merle is, but he has his reasons too. Don't miss her life if you don't have to, Shane. Stay home when we get there." 

Shane grimaced. "I want to. But he's out here, somewhere." 

"He is. I'll find him. Maybe the lump will help," Michonne said with a nod Merle's direction. "He's got to be good for more than just arguing with me, right? Think about it. Go to sleep." 

“Dixon! Michonne!” Shane called, leaning over to slap Merle’s shoulder. “Get moving. Time to get back to work.” 

The other two scrambled to their feet, scooping up their packs and scuffing out the fire. The three of them moved easily together, out and down the steps to the lower level in mere minutes, heading to the vehicle they left ready and waiting. Movement caught Shane’s eye as Michonne tossed packs unto the trunk and he turned, scanning the area sharply for the source. If it was walkers, they'd just take off. If not, Shane wanted to know what it was. It hadn't moved like a walker, at least he didn't think so, though he couldn't have told anyone why.

"Walsh!" Michonne hissed. "Come on!" 

Shane headed toward the corner of the building, Glock up and aimed, and he waved her off with one hand. Something wasn't right. He eased around the corner and- 

"Stay still!" a shaky voice snapped. "I'll shoot!" 

Shane lowered his gun and held his hands up, looking over his shoulder at Michonne and Merle. Michonne had a hand on her sword, ready to draw it and spring into action, and Merle had the rifle ready but not aimed. Shane nodded to them and held up a finger before focusing back on the dirty faces in front of him. 

"Hey. I'm Shane Walsh. I used to be a cop," he said easily. "Who are you?" 

"Look, I'll take them back," Shane offered, running a hand through his hair. "I'll get a car going.You two finish the grids." 

Michonne looked from Shane to the man and his daughters and nodded. "Be careful." 

Merle scoffed. "Shit, sugar. He just wants to get back and get him some-" 

"Shut up, you asshole." Shane didn't change his tone as he cut off whatever bullshit comment Merle was about to make. "That’s your sister, man. Your sister. You do remember that, right? Stick to the plan. Don't be late. Don't kill each other." 

Michonne rolled her eyes and smiled faintly at Shane as Merle gave a raucous laugh. "No promises," she said dryly. 

Shane handed her the map and jogged back over to the dad and his girls. He was ready to get back, impatient to see his own little girl now that he was going that way. 

\--- Hey, Slugger

Shane sighed and spun his chair around, tapping his pen against his hand as he did. Night shift sucked enough when he was out there on patrol, but night shift in the office was beyond boring. Unfortunately, he could use the overtime and paperwork was important. 

Damn it. 

He bent back over the report he was filling out, trying not to check his phone. He and Ace hadn't spoken for a few days and he was wondering what she was up to. It was a Saturday night, so she'd probably still be at work. He thought she was on again with that asshole, and if so he probably wouldn't hear from her at all tonight. 

Shit, he hoped he did. She'd make the shift go by so damn much faster. If he was lucky, she'd get home and find it hard to settle, and after she grabbed a shower she'd call him and talk to him for a couple of hours until she fell asleep. 

He forced himself to concentrate on the report, a burglary he and Rick had thwarted- Rick's word, not his- last week. Shane had told Rick he'd handle this shit tonight, since he had to be on anyway, and now Shane was wondering just why he did this damn job. He hated it.

Ace would have said it was the hero complex, he thought with a grin. Like he'd summoned her with the thought, his phone buzzed. 

\--- Hey. What's up? 

Shane frowned. That wasn't like her. No Dickhead, no dumbass emojis. 

\--- Miss you. Stuck on nightshift and reports. You ok? 

\--- I miss you too, Dickhead. I'm with Mal. Had to bring my phone to the bathroom. 

Shane snorted at that, leaning back with his phone up in front of his face in both hands. Reports forgotten, he propped his feet on the desk as he replied. 

\--- Gotta hide in the bathroom to talk to me now? 

\--- Don't start. Never said I was hiding. 

\--- Shit, girl. You texting me on the john? 

Shane was grinning as he waited for the next message. 

\---- Eww. Fine, I was hiding. You happy now? 

\--- Not really. Bored as shit. Go home and call me. 

Shane had only been joking, but he set his phone down with a sigh when she didn't text back right away. He picked up his pen again and ten minutes his phone buzzed. 

"Well, hey," he said, smiling at the ceiling as he tipped back in his chair again. 

"Hey, Officer Walsh. Screwing around on duty?" 

Shane laughed. "Not at the moment, but that's not to say I haven't before." 

"Jesus. I said 'screwing around' not 'screwing someone'," she shot back, and Shane could hear the smile in her voice. "Stuck on desk duty, huh?" 

"Yeah. Pulled the short straw. Figured Rick could use the break and I could use the cash." 

"Cash is always nice. What are you working on? Talk me through it, if you want. I’m driving home and I’m beat. Help me stay awake.”

Shane leaned forward and started flipping through files. "Well, this one's boring. Just a basic robbery. We stopped it. Shit, I can't talk about that one. Oh, yeah. Here's a winner. Buckle up, Ace, I've got a tale for you tonight!" 

It took Shane two days to get back to the prison instead of the six it would take Michonne and Merle, since he and the new family were driving it straight instead of stopping to search all along the way. 

Ryan Samuels and his daughters, Lizzy and Mika, had lived in Jacksonville, Florida when the outbreak happened. They'd been running from the dead ever since, and they had seem some shit in their time. Ryan had lost his wife before the outbreak, and Shane's heart broke for him and his girls when Ryan told him some of what they'd been through. They'd been with a couple of different groups, constantly on the move, and constantly losing people. 

Shane filled Ryan in on the basics of the prison and life in their new community, and the hope in the man's eyes was almost painful to see. Now they were cruising up to the gates, and Shane couldn't stop smiling. 

They'd added a secondary set of gates and a series of walker traps before the main entrance. Shane nodded his approval and made a note to ask how often they cleared the traps off, though since there were only a three dead impaled on them and reaching forward with clawed fingers, he figured they were on top of things. 

Any opportunity to bust Dixon's chops, though. 

There was a crew on the fence, taking out a group of walkers rattling the chain link so they didn't get too built up. Smoke rose black and thick into the sky behind the prison, looking about a mile away, and Shane figured there was a body bonfire out there somewhere. They must have had a herd roll through recently. 

He cruised slowly up the path, letting Ryan and his daughters look their fill. The two girls were talking to each other in hushed, quiet tones, and Shane heard their twin gasps when they saw Carl. They must not have seen many kids out there recently, he figured, and he hoped they’d enjoy the kids here.

Rick's garden was starting to grow, and Carl and Rick were building some sort of enclosure near it. Carl had left off Rick's hat today, and Shane smiled as he waved a lazy hand out the window at his best friend and his nephew and got enthusiastic waves in return. He glanced in the rearview and saw them both walking toward the courtyard Shane pulled into now. 

Carol was at the massive barbeque thing Daryl and Rick had made for her, and Shane's stomach growled as something delicious wafted toward him. He glanced over at Ryan and grinned when he saw him staring at the deer Ace's brother was dressing down just behind the kitchen enclosure. Daryl looked up, saw him, and tossed his head with a smirk, and Shane rolled his eyes at Dixon as he put the car in park. 

"Brace yourselves, girls," Shane said with a glance over his shoulder and a friendly smile. "Mrs. Carol back there behind the grill? Is a wizard in the kitchen. Trust me, whatever she's cooking will make you think you've gone straight to heaven." 

"It smells like it," the little one, Mika, said shyly. 

Shane grinned and hopped out as Rick and Carl reached the courtyard. 

"Uncle Shane!" 

"Come here, kid," Shane called, grabbing Carl in a hug. "Hey, man. Where's your lid?" 

"It's not a farming hat," Carl said with a shrug. "You're home early." 

"I am indeed. I brought us some new faces. Rick, Carl- Ryan Samuels, and his daughters Lizzy and Mika," Shane introduced them with a wave and a smile, arm still around Carl. "They've had a rough go of it, but that's behind them now, ain't it?" 

"Right," Rick said with a welcoming handshake for Ryan. "Welcome to the prison." 

Shane impatiently saw the Samuels' family get settled into D block, giving them the usual spiel and showing them around the place until Maggie took pity on him and took over. 

"She's painting. Far side, by the garage," Maggie told him with a grin. "Guard tower's empty right now. Glenn's out on a run." 

Shane sighed. "You know, sex isn't the only thing we do." 

"No, but it tends to be the first when you get back. Hurry up. She doesn't know you're here yet. Surprise your girl," Maggie said with a laugh, shoving him out the door. 

Shane took the time to grab a quick shower first, knowing if Slugger was painting no one would be able to tell her he was here. He admired the piece now filling the wall inside the bathroom, complete with life-size mermaid sitting on a rock singing as she braided her hair, eyes sly on the viewer's while sailors leaned over the side of a ship and dove into the water to come for her. 

Yeah, Shane thought as he had every time. That woman knew exactly what she was doing- both the mermaid and his Slugger.

He wandered around to the garage, studying the riot of color she'd turned the place into. Between her work, the plants, the chalk all over the courtyard- some of it clearly Ace's, most of it childish drawing and squiggles, and Shane knew she'd been doing art lessons with the kids again- and the new construction and laundry lines, the place looked nothing like the barren, zombie-strewn institution they'd moved into. They'd turned it into a home, a safe haven, and Shane almost forgot sometimes that it was a prison and he was a cop. 

He was rolling his eyes and mentally informing himself he'd been spending too damn much time with Ace's asshole brother as he rounded the corner and found her. He stopped where he was, leaning against the wall and watching as she did what she did best. 

The first time he'd seen her paint he'd been fascinated by the grace in her movements, the concentration in her eyes, and the magic she made with the damn paint. She'd had her hair tucked under her black beanie, her tank and jeans had been covered in colorful splatters, and she'd had a bandanna over her face. Shane hadn't realized who she was at first, thinking he’d need to stop whoever it was and make sure they were supposed to be painting that wall. Then she'd stepped back and cocked her head to look, then flipped the spray paint can up in a bar toss he'd seen her do a few times at the bar. 

He blinked now as she did that same toss with a can of red paint, catching it even as she bent to grab a fresh can from the bag at her feet. She dropped the red back into it, shoved a hand through her hair- not blue anymore, to Shane's dismay, but instead a pale lavender that he knew would look damn good with those Dixon blue eyes- and cocked her head at the painting. 

Shane studied the piece as she stepped back in and added a white outline to a red raindrop, and he saw the melancholy in it under the explosion of color anyone else would have called joyful. Raindrops in bold, bright colors fell from grey clouds, to an outline of an umbrella held in the hand of a dancing ballerina. The ballerina was en point, done in all black so she only a shadow, and she had one hand extended out beyond the edge of protection provided by her umbrella. In the palm of that outstretched hand was a pool of green, a liquid color caught in the dancer's hand. 

Ace was adding highlights to the piece with the white paint, and Shane smiled as she rose to match the dancer's pointed toes to reach a bit without getting the step stool she had nearby. 

"What are you doing out there all the time, Uncle Shane?" Carl asked quietly from beside him. 

Shane turned in surprise to find Carl with Judith in his arms and Shane beamed at his baby girl. She waved a hand and leaned toward him, and Shane scooped her from Carl and cuddled her close. 

"Hey, baby girl. What are you talking about, kid? I'm looking for the Governor," he told Carl, giving him a confused look. 

Carl rolled his eyes and gestured toward Ace. "She misses you. We miss you. Is finding him that important? He lost." 

Shane cuddled Judith closer and watched as Ace studied her work again, flipping the can of paint absently. Then she shrugged and tossed the can down, stretching up toward the air before bending in half with a groan Shane could hear from where he and Carl were. 

"How long she been at it?" he asked the kid. 

"This time? About four hours," Carl said with a shrug. "She hasn't eaten today unless she did while I helping Dad." 

"Damn it," Shane muttered, scowling. He kissed Judith and passed her back to Carl, then headed over to Ace as she crouched to zip her bag. "Hey. I'll take that, miss," he called, reaching for the strap as she went to sling it over her shoulder. 

She whirled at the sound of his voice, her eyes wide. "Shane?" 

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, and her eyes welled up as she tossed her arms around him.


	85. Lie #85: "I'm Askin', Ain't I?" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

Shane's eyes burned as he unlocked his door and staggered through it. He dropped his bag and toed of his boots, leaving them where they were as he headed toward bed with single-minded determination. 

He'd pulled a double and it was nearing three am. He and Rick had worked the eight to four shift and then Shane had turned around and worked four to midnight. Except of course, it never worked that way, and he'd been there for an extra two hours because of a drunk idiot, a bar fight, and Leon fucking Bassett. He was exhausted and needed a shower, but he needed sleep more. 

He took the time to lock his piece in the gun box on the nightstand, where it belonged, and stripped out of his uniform shirt. He kicked it to the corner, in the general direction of the laundry hamper, and dropped his pants where they were before he collapsed into bed with a groan. 

Two seconds later, he shoved back upright, fished his phone from his pants pocket, and plugged it into the charger. Then he fell back down and embraced the darkness. 

The pig squealing drew him out of a dream involving handcuffs and a woman with a waterfall of green hair. Shane slapped a hand angrily toward his phone, knocking it to the floor as he tried to get it to just shut up already so he could go back to sleep. The sound stopped for a moment and Shane felt himself drifting back under, but then it came again. 

"Goddamn it, what?" he snarled, leaning over the bed to fumble for the fucking thing. 

He blinked blearily at it, then smiled when he saw Ace's name and photo. 

\--- OMG street fair today you should see this Dickhead

\--- THE ART

\--- DUDE LOOK 

The third message had a picture attached, of some canvas piece Shane was too fucking tired to figure out. If he'd had to guess, it was inspired by Picasso, judging by the eyes everywhere. He smiled, then glanced at the clock and groaned. 

Six ten am, and Ace was texting him about art. He'd been asleep for three hours. 

\--- Jesus Slugger its early. That thing has too many eyes. Where the hell are you?

Shane set the phone on his chest and closed his eyes, hoping to get some more sleep. The pigs started fucking again, and smiled unwillingly. Yeah, that shit was never not gonna be funny, he decided.

\--- Art fair out on Peach; it's INCREDIBLE. You should see all this shit. I'm gonna be here all day trying to take it all in. Brace yourself for pic spam.

\--- Asshole with you? 

\--- Ugh, no. I dumped him three days ago. Yes, again. Don't start.

Shane sighed and rolled his eyes at the news about Mal. He turned the phone in his hands a few times before giving into the inevitable and swinging out of bed. He'd hit the shower and then head up to Atlanta, so she could talk his ear off in person. If he was going to be awake and talking to her, he might as well get to see her too, right?

\--- Sorry about that. So you're gonna be there all day? 

He left the Jeep in her building's lot and took a cab over to Peach, figuring if there was a street fair going on, parking would be a madhouse. 

\--- Hey, I'm back. Still at that art thing? 

\--- OMG there you are Dickhead! Of course I am! 

Shane grinned as his phone squealed seven times in a row and the cabbie tried really hard not to make eye contact with him. Each squeal was another picture from her, mostly of art Shane wasn't entirely sure he understood. The last one was a selfie, her hand over her mouth and her eyes dancing. It took him a minute to see what she was so goddamn amused by, because she'd changed her hair again and the mix of purple, blue, and black somehow made him think of space. She stood beside an electrical box that had been tagged to read 'I was going to paint some street art on this, but I realized I could go to jail for longer than a rapist' and Shane snorted.

He wished whoever the artist was had been wrong, but sadly; they weren't. 

\--- So where'd you go? I have a jillion more pics to spam you with but if you're busy I'll wait!

He grinned and paid the cabby, dialing her number as he slid out of the backseat. He glanced around at the bustling street and wished once again that he'd gotten some more damn sleep. 

"Yo, Dickhead! What's up?" 

Her voice was so cheerful he knew he'd made the right decision. "Oh, nothing much. Where you at? Still at that street thing?" 

"Yeah, I'm- oh my god. Shane, you should see this. It's amazing!" 

He smirked and spied a coffee cart, ordering a red eye with an extra shot for himself and a double pump of chocolate in her mocha with his hand over the speaker. She was describing some statue to him in intricate detail, and he made appropriate noises when she paused for air. Coffees in hand, he started walking the street and scanning for her. 

"That sounds amazing, Ace. What else do you see? Hey, where on Peach are you?" he asked, biting his lip as he waited. She was so damn caught up in the art, he knew she wouldn't figure it out. 

"Up near the cross to Pear, why? Oh, man, there's this artist who wraps parts of the street in yarn, like a sign post or exposed pipe or whatever. It's so fucking different, Shane; I'll have to find some to show you next time you're here! And then there's a glassblower, and he's got a bunch of bottle stoppers, you know, like the one you got me that one time." 

Shane took off toward Pear, weaving through the crowd as he listened to her chatter some more. It only took a minute before he caught a flash of movement to one side and saw her gesturing wildly as she described the piece she was standing in front of to him. He grinned and wandered a little closer, pausing to watch her. 

She had her hair up in a ponytail now, and her jeans and suede jacket were free of paint splatters as far as he could see. He figured that wouldn't last long, since he'd seen at least two booths where the artist had supplies out for the crowd to try their technique, and Shane knew Slugger. She'd want to do every one along the way, and probably try to get him to as well. 

He decided he'd just hold her jacket for her instead. 

She bent closer to the piece as she talked in his ear and he bit his lip and waited for his opening. "And she's used this really unique series of brush strokes, kinda like-" 

"Like Van Gogh," he offered. Even from here, he could see the resemblance to The Starry Night and Wheatfield with Crows. 

He paused for a minute and rolled his eyes at himself, knowing if he hadn't known Ace he would never have been able to identify fucking Vincent Van Gogh's art style, much less her two favorites of his works.

"Exactly!" she said brightly, straightening up. Then she paused, and Shane grinned as he watched her tilt her head to one side. "Wait, how'd you know that, Dickhead?" 

"I mean, it's pretty damn clear. Just look at those swirls, and I mean even the pigment saturation looks a lot like Wheatfield. Yeah, I can see why you like it," he finished as she whirled and her eyes landed on him. 

She stared for a beat and he brought his coffee to his lips and took a sip to hide his smirk. "Hey, Slugger." 

"You asshole," she shot back, and hung up her phone.

He pulled his from his ear and wandered over closer to where she stood with her arms crossed now and a stern expression that did nothing to hide the delight in her eyes. 

"What the hell are you doing here? You worked a double yesterday! You should be sleeping!" 

He snorted and handed her one of the cups. "Here's a chocolate bastardization of the coffee bean. Extra pump and no whip, you heathen. I would be sleeping, but somebody woke me up at six am to scream at me about a street fair." 

"You did not have to come," she said, and he saw the guilt starting to overpower the surprised happiness in her eyes. 

He shrugged, taking another sip and nodding toward the art. "Show me shit. I was up anyway, and you're excited. Figured it was worth the drive. Plus, I'll sleep half the afternoon on your couch while I watch football and you cook me dinner." 

She beamed at him and looped her arm through his, tugging him closer toward the booth. "Deal. Jessie! Hey, I'm back. This is Shane. So talk to me about these brush strokes, cause they look like-" 

Ace carried Judith in her arms, giggling down at Shane's daughter conspiratorially as he watched. He was only listening to Karen and Tyreese with half an ear, since Ace and Judy looked so damn cute together, standing almost perfectly placed in front of Ace's wings. 

"So, that's the fence report," Tyreese finished. "And you haven't heard a word we've said, have you?" 

Shane focused back on the two of them with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry, guys." 

They exchanged an amused glance, and Shane braced himself for the commentary soon to follow. He might have known damn well that he deserved it, since here he was supposedly one of the people in charge of running this joint and all he could do was stare at his girls, but still. It didn't mean he had to be graceful about it. 

Karen was about to speak when Shane heard Daryl call his name. "Hey, Walsh. Yo, Tyreese, Karen, them fences look damn good. Got the second shift on body removal, haulin' 'em up to the fire. Tomorrow you guys got a rest day, aight? Don't want to see either of you on that damn fence." 

Karen and Tyreese reassured Dixon they'd stay away, wandering off making goo-goo eyes at each other. 

"When did that happen?" Shane asked Daryl. 

He snorted and crossed his arms. "Week or so ago, I guess. Look, ya back for good or what, man?" 

Shane sighed. "Not you too," he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. 

"You make my sister unhappy when ya ain't here. She's fuckin' sad, man, and for what?" 

"Shut up, asshole," Shane muttered, but his eyes went back to Ace and Judy. Slugger was talking to Carol and Beth now, and Judith had her head on his girl's shoulder, eyes getting sleepy. "I've gotta find him." 

Daryl sighed. "I told ya if you fuck her up, I'll fuck up your face. Still applies, and ya damn close, man. He's gone. She's right here. Do the math." 

Shane turned to shoot him a look and Daryl lifted an eyebrow lazily. They stared at each other, Daryl practically daring Shane to argue. Thing was, he couldn't. But at the same time, that one eyed bastard was still out there.

"Hey, two of my favorite men," Ace called cheerfully, breaking into their wordless moment. "Glaring at each other, what a shock. What are you doing, Dar?" 

Daryl turned a bland look to Ace as she wrapped her hand around Shane's. "Nothin', sis. Just tellin' Walsh here what a moody bitch ya are without him around." 

Shane snorted at the affronted look on Ace's face. 

"I am not moody!" she declared hotly. 

"Simmer down," Daryl teased, rolling his eyes. "Noticed ya don't object to the bitch part. Aight, Imma go before the making out starts." 

"Asshole!" she called after him as Shane laughed. Ace rolled her eyes. "Why are my brothers like that? Seriously, why can't I just have a normal family relationship with either of them?" 

"With Daryl? And- and Merle?" Shane asked pointedly. 

Ace grinned. "That's fair. Hey, we need to talk."

"Shane, he died. He had to! Or he's long gone. I mean, there's been no sign since Woodbury went up, and Mal said-" 

Shane cut her off with a growl, shaking his head and shoving a hand through his hair. "I don't give a shit what that fucking cockroach said. I can't- I can't accept that. We thought that before, see, all of us, and he- you got hurt. I won't let that happen again, Slugger, I can't." 

"So what? You're just going to ride around with Merle and Michonne all the time, and leave me here? Come on, Shane. The Governor was only interested in me for information. Malcolm was- Malcolm was the real threat, and he's gone. So is the Governor." Her voice softened at the end, and she uncrossed her arms and stepped toward him. She caressed his cheek and smiled slightly, and Shane sighed and leaned into her hand as she continued. "I miss you. And I worry when you're out there." 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, hearing the rawness of his own voice and hating it. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be here with her, with Judy, with Carl and Rick, but he couldn't turn off the voice in his head that warned him it was a mistake. "If I stop- if I stop going out and he's not dead, then- he'll come back here. We both know that, sweetheart." 

She nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, maybe he will. I can't live in fear of maybes, though. The world ended, and life's too damn short to waste a minute now. Come on, hero. Stay with me. Live with me. We're safe; we have walls. Judith is growing. Rick's fucking farming. The world's coming back. Hell, my hair's funky again." 

Shane snorted out a laugh at that, reaching up to tug on the ends of her hair. "Yeah, I like this one. Like the blue better, but this is nice too."

She swept her lips over his. "Thanks. Live with me. We never got to before, and I want to know what that's like. You and me, all mixed together, forever." 

Shane sighed, knowing he'd lost already. Knowing he'd been planning on staying since he saw her painting. Maybe even since he decided to bring the Samuels family back early. He just fucking missed her too damn much. He wanted to be here, consequences be damned. "Fine. One condition." 

"Which is?" 

He grinned at the wary tone of her voice and the suspicious look in her eyes, and he tucked a strand of lavender hair back behind her ear. "Wanna get hitched?" 

She cracked up, staring at him in total disbelief. "Oh. Oh, Lord, Shane, you can't be serious? Who the hell- it's the apocalypse! We couldn't get married if we wanted to!" 

"Why not? Maggie and Glenn did. And what's this if? I'm askin', ain't I?" he asked. He should have been offended, but he wasn't. It was Slugger, and she was in his arms, and he didn't even know if he meant it right now or not. He just wanted her laughing, wanted her smiling, wanted her right here at his side and fucking his- forever. 

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "No, you're bargaining. And Maggie and Glenn just kind of declared themselves married and started wearing rings. Which is cool, don't get me wrong, I don't give a shit. But that's so not how I'm going to do it, you understand? If we're going to get married, you better find me a priest or justice of the peace, or someone with actual authority to do so, and none of that non denominational internet shit either."

He grinned at her, tugging her down into his lap as he wondered just why her refusing to marry him made him this damn happy. "Yeah? Why's that?" 

She settled into his lap, legs locking behind him as she wound her arms around his neck and brought her lips close to his. "Because I said so. Look, I'm not religious, so it sure doesn't have to be a priest. But I also think that's a big ass deal, especially for two people with as many fucked-up examples of marriage as we have, so if you propose to me, Shane Walsh, you better fucking mean it. I mean you put thought into that shit, have someone to make it genuinely official, and there is zero doubt in your mind. Oh, and I won't take your name either." 

He kissed her, hard and deep, and tangled his fingers all up in her hair. "And why not? What's wrong with Walsh?" 

"Absolutely nothing," she said, her hands gripping his shirt and digging into his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss down the length of her neck. "But I already have a name. I'm Ace Dixon, thank you very much." 

"Naw. You're Slugger," he countered, and bit at the pulse he could feel speeding up. She let out that shocked little gasp he loved, and he kissed lightly where his teeth had been. "My Slugger," he added firmly. 

She sighed when he brushed his lips to hers, slow and sweet so her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into him. Her hand slid up and curled into his hair, and he leaned his forehead to her shoulder. 

"I'll stay," he said finally. "For you." 

"My hero," she whispered. "Don't stop kissing me." 

"Never."


	86. Truth #1: “Last Call Makes Liars Out Of Everyone” - Ace

The air was cold and crisp and you thought maybe you detected a hint of snow in the breeze, but that might have just been wistful thinking on your part. Sure, Atlanta was deep enough in the south you didn't usually see more than a dusting, but there'd been a few snowstorms bad enough to shut down even your bustling city. 

Not, of course, the Lullaby, and you remembered walking to the bar once, through the snow that hadn't stopped falling, only to be completely and utterly baffled by the number of idiots braving the weather for a drink. You'd made a fucking killing that night, since Jason had laughed in Ellie's ear when she'd called to ask if he was still coming in to work. His loss, your gain, you thought with a grin. 

Tonight it wasn't snowing, but you were slinging drinks at full-speed anyway, with barely a pause for a breath. You'd have killed for a cigarette, but you knew you probably had another solid half-hour before that was even possible, and your mind was racing with the thousand and one things that still needed to be done when the door opened. 

You looked up, reaching for an orange slice and hooking it over the edge of the Blue Moon you'd just pulled in a move as automatic as breathing. You didn't have to see it to know how damn ridiculous it looked on the edge of the Valhalla mug, and it didn't matter anyway. A smile spread on your lips at the person coming in the door. 

Shane waved and headed toward the end of the bar, sliding onto the one remaining stool in at the bar, his usual spot. He was still half in uniform, you noticed with a frown, which meant he'd come straight from work. Must have been a bad day then, even if he was covering it well. Luckily, you knew how to cheer him up.

He leaned against the wall and made a face at you as you flipped a martini glass upside down, dipped it in water, and rubbed the rim in the salt dish. You stuck your tongue out at him and set the glass right side up, then looked at the customer in front of you and smiled. 

"Ready for a show?" you asked with a wink. 

Before the guy the could verbalize the bad joke you knew was coming by the look in his eye and the way he smirked- probably something about how watching you already was a show- you tossed the bottle of Jose Cuervo up, flicking your wrist so it spun a full three rotations in the air before you snatched it with your other hand and dumped it into the shaker. Oohs and ahhs followed as you tossed the Triple Sec behind you and over your shoulder, and you did a spin when you chucked the lime juice up last. 

Bar tricks weren't necessary, and actually slowed down your damn progress, but they were worth it for the tips. And, more importantly, you thought as you loaded a tray with drinks and yelled for Julie to pick it up, it put that amused as hell look in Shane's eyes.

You finally made it down to him and leaned against the bar with a grin. "Hey, Officer. Like what you see?" 

Shane rolled his eyes. "You know I can't figure out how you do that shit and nail it every time." 

"Practice and fear. And natural dexterity," you said with a shrug. "Whatcha drinking tonight? Coming to my place after last call? Don't try to pretend like nothing's wrong, I saw the uniform pants." 

"Yeah, no, I- rough day," he said with a grimace. "You mind? I was thinking maybe I'd crash at your place, we could get some real damn coffee in the morning, and then I'd take you to that exhibit you've been talking my ear off about for weeks now. Unless that asshole-?" Shane trailed off and raised both eyebrows at you. 

You boosted yourself up to lean over the bar and kiss his cheek. "Mal and I broke up again. Sorry about the shift. You are the best friend in the world, Dickhead. Don't you have a date or something though? It's a Friday night." 

Shane shrugged, looking tired and worn. "Naw. Nobody interesting around these days. Besides, I figured you'd need a date for this thing tomorrow, so I made sure to put it in my calendar. In case the asshole flaked." 

"Need? No. Want? If it's you, definitely," you said with a smile, feeling touched. You squeezed his hand again and reached for a glass, turning your tone teasing and light. You were angling for the grin, the one that would tell you he really was ok. "You're the best, Shane. Jack and Coke then, if you're coming home with me?" 

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. Thought you didn't pick up customers, Slugger." 

"Well, you know what I say," you said, winking at him and finally getting the grin. He shook his head and muttered it along with you, gesturing with his glass as he raised it to his lips. 

"Last call makes liars out of everyone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s Last Call Liars! Stay tuned for Shane and Ace’s continued adventures, and thank you so much to everyone for all the kudos, comments, and love! I’m so glad you all like these two as much as I do, and I can’t wait for you to find out what’s in store for them next! 
> 
> XO, JustRamblinOn

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Last Call Rock and Roll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690198) by [Rhi_Writing_Adventures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhi_Writing_Adventures/pseuds/Rhi_Writing_Adventures)


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